


Cold

by DrabbleDistillery



Series: Hearts in Alaska [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Breakups, Dominance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kink, Possessive!Tom, Pregnancy, Public Sex, Racism, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Submission, Weed, aggressive sex, aggressive!Tom, dom!Tom, make-up sex, reference to past abuse, reference to past child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 85,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrabbleDistillery/pseuds/DrabbleDistillery
Summary: Sometimes the last place you expect to be is the place you're most needed.During a forced vacation from work, Gemma Hendricks finds herself at odds with the infuriatingly handsome Thomas Harrison, who she loves to hate.Or hates to love, she's not quite sure which.





	1. If it ain't broke

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends, just stopping by with some steamy, heart-wrenching fic. Enjoy! Please review! :)

 

 

“Start, damn you! Start!” I pleaded, beating my fists on the dash, though I knew it was futile. It felt good—albeit childish—to scream and cry in frustration at my situation. It wouldn’t do anything, obviously, but it made me feel slightly better anyway. A useless comfort.

 

My car was dead. It had stalled out on the little stretch of road I’d been driving down for over an hour.

 

“Take some time off, they said,” I muttered, giving the key one last try in the ignition, before throwing it against the windshield. _“Refresh yourself!”_ I bit out, imitating my boss who, unfortunately, wasn’t there to hear my rather accurate rendition. _“You’re so run down!_ Yeah well I fucking am, now!” I yelled at no one in particular. Part of me wished Mr. Renner _was_ there, just so I could yell at him—after which, of course, he would promptly fire me.

 

It was past four now, and darkness would drop like a blanket in just under two hours. Alaska was supposed to be beautiful in the winter—from inside a warm house. Outside, it was going to be a freezing death trap once dark fell, and I only had a few hours left to resign myself to my fate. I didn’t like being cold on the best of days, and even though it was still warm inside my little rental sedan, I swore I could feel the cold creeping in through the windows already. My phone was dead—I couldn’t call for help, and since the car was older than me, there wasn’t a USB adapter.

 

Perfect.

 

The city was too far to reach on foot, and I had no idea how far from town I was; I could be walking five minutes or five hours. Frustrated tears began to seep down my cheeks again, and I wiped them away. No. I was a grown woman who could fix her own messes. After about an hour, the sun began going down behind me, and I shivered, feeling the temperature drop several degrees with every inch the sun slipped. I remembered I had some more sweaters in my suitcase in the trunk, which would be a blessing once the sun went down. If I was lucky, someone would drive by before too long—but I’d on that road a long time even before my shitty rental died, and hadn’t even seen another car.

 

“Okay, Gem. You’ve got this.” I said quietly to myself, before opening the creaky car door, and stepping out into the cold. It hadn’t snowed recently, but what was left on the ground had become hard and icy, and I slipped at least twice trying to navigate through the dead grass to my trunk, which stuck when I tried to open it. “Come on, you piece of shit!” I yelled, lifting my leg and kicking the back tire. The trunk popped open, and I grinned triumphantly. “Score: Alaska one, Gemma, one.” The breeze lifted, and the dead grass rustled around me. It was getting colder. I hurriedly fished my sweaters out of my bag, and closed the trunk, before jumping back inside the car, shivering. I liked to joke that all my “padding” kept me from being cold, but now it just felt like my curvy body had even more places for the icy wind to pinch.

 

Soon, the sun was almost completely down, and I was feeling the chill inside the car, even under my additional clothing. My breath was fogging up the windshield, and I wiped it away, just in case anyone drove by.

 

 _No one’s coming, Gemma,_ I thought to myself, rubbing my hands together, before laying my head on the steering wheel. _And now you’re going to die all because you let too much vacation time accumulate, you fucking workaholic._

 

I had almost finished thoroughly berating myself when a pinprick of light appeared in the distance. I rubbed my eyes—I wasn’t sure if being so cold for so long had me hallucinating. I stared into the rearview mirror for a moment before practically kicking my door open to stand in the middle of the road.

 

It was a car.

 

A huge black SUV, which made me feel a little safer about jumping and waving like an idiot. It was probably a mom, on her way home or something. As it got closer, I could see the windows were tinted to keep anyone from seeing in. I swallowed nervously. At first, it didn’t seem to be slowing down, so I dove back towards my car as the vehicle rumbled closer. But despite it’s speed, the car pulled off just in front of mine, and the inside light clicked on, barely visible outside. I tucked my hands under my arms and jogged to the drivers side window. It rolled down, slowly, revealing—

 

_A fucking god._

 

I shook my head.

 

“Uh, hi. Sorry to bother you, but um, my car—”

 

“I’m not going into town.” His accent shocked me, but I shook it off, frowning.

 

“I wasn’t asking you to go into town,” I said, pursing my lips, a little shocked at his sudden abrasiveness. Why stop if he wasn’t going to help? “My car broke down and my phone is dead. I was going to ask you if I could use yours, call a tow truck or something.”

 

He rolled his eyes, and ran a hand through his dark, shoulder length hair before continuing like he hadn’t heard me. “Nearest tow service is in town.” I narrowed my eyes. Why had I assumed he’d be a mom? Back in New York, most of the people who drove big, family sized cars like this _were_ soccer moms, suburban wives who carted every _one_ and every _thing_ around, every _where_ they went. But this guy was as far from maternal as you could get. He had high cheekbones and sharp eyes, his handsome mouth pursed with surly indifference.

 

“Can. I. Use. Your. Phone.” I said haltingly, trying not to burn the bridge while I was crossing it. He was pissing me off—which, admittedly, wasn’t a particularly difficult task. I’d always had a sharp temper, which had gotten me in trouble on more than enough occasions. It was even chillier outside now, and my hands were shaking as I snatched the device from him, before dialing roadside assistance. He watched me cooly, never exiting the car.

 

“Hello, emergency services. How can I be of assistance?”

 

“Hi, hello, yes, my car broke down on the road going into Blumfield, it’s a white 80’ Honda.” I rambled. I was relieved, at least until the operator spoke again.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. We’ll have services out to you as soon as we can—but probably not before the morning.”

 

“The… The morning? As in tomorrow? You have to get someone out here sooner, I’m stuck out here!” I knew I sounded panicked—but it was because I’d already been out there for hours, alone. What if they never found me? What if I froze before that?

 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but that’s the best we can do. Blumfield’s three hours from Anchorage, I can contact emergency services on both ends, see if they can send someone for you? Do you have any friends in the area? A storm’s blowing in, I’d hate for you to get trapped out there.”

 

“I… no. I don’t. Yes, I suppose go ahead and call. Hopefully someone will… someone will make it.”

 

I gave the woman my phone number, and ended the call, before handing the phone back to the man with shaking fingers. “Thanks. They said someone may be along in a few hours.” I said, biting my wind-chapped lips. He said nothing. I sighed, and was halfway back to my car when he blew the horn loudly, startling me. I let out a short scream, before looking back at the SUV, which hadn’t moved an inch. I started to turn, and he honked again impatiently, and I stomped back to the window.

 

“What?”

 

“Blumfield’s police department closes at 6pm on Sunday. No one will be there but Tim and he’s too old to be driving out here at night.” he said smoothly, peering down at me. _I bet he’s overcompensating with this massive fucking truck,_ I thought venomously.

 

“And you’re telling me this because why, exactly?” I said through gritted teeth.

 

“You’ll freeze to death waiting out here for someone to show up for you.”

 

“Thank you, wise stranger.” I spat, crossing my arms.

 

“I was going to tell you to stay the night with me, and I would take you into town tomorrow, but seeing as you’re going to be a b—”

 

“You were?” I asked incredulously, cutting him off. I wasn’t in the mood to be insulted, and despite my sailor’s mouth, I had a feeling he was better at it than I was.

 

“Yes,” he said curtly, rolling his eyes. “I was.”

 

“Is the offer still open?” I asked, my teeth chattering.

 

“Get your shit and get in,” he said, before rolling up the window, effectively ending the conversation. I jogged back to my car, before prying the trunk back open and grabbing my suitcase. I made sure I had my purse, my paperwork, and the keys, before locking it. As I was lugging it to the back side of his truck, the stranger blew the horn again, and I almost yelled at him to fuck off, before reminding myself he was my ticket out of here alive.

 

“Keep it together, Gemma,” I muttered, walking around to the passenger side. “Keep it together.”

 

Even with the little step behind the wheel, I had to hold onto the door and hoist myself up into the passenger seat. At 5’6, I’d never considered myself short, but damn if I didn’t feel minuscule getting into this behemoth. He chuckled at my efforts, and I bristled, slamming the door. Without a word, he pushed the car into gear, and pulled off, and I watched as my shitty little rental faded into the coming night in less than a minute.

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

The car rumbled along in silence, as neither of us seemed too keen on speaking to one another. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head, urging me to thank him, to make conversation.

 

_Shut up, ma._

 

“What’s your name?” He asked gruffly, reaching down to the dash between us with one hand to grab a carton of cigarettes, and shake one out. He stuck it in his mouth before rolling the window down a bit and lighting it.

 

“Gemma Hendricks.” I said. “And thanks. I don’t like smoke.”

 

“I don’t like my car smelling like cigarettes.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “And your name is?”

 

“Thomas.”

 

He exhaled, and the smoke flew out of the window, leaving a little trail in the dusky air. He didn’t say anything the rest of the ride. And when I asked if I could plug in my phone, he made a noncommittal grunt that I assumed was approval, because he didn’t chuck me out of the car when I did.

 

After uncountable minutes—I estimated at least ten—we reached a sign that said **_Blumfield - 15 miles_**. He didn’t go straight—he’d told me, after all, that he wasn’t heading into town. There was a little turn off, just after the sign, and Thomas took it, without offering explanation. I was reminded of movies like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and others, about wrong turns, and strangers in the wilderness. I pushed the thoughts away—I didn’t need to freak out even more. If Thomas was going to kill me, I thought, he probably would have done it going 90 on the highway.

 

Just as my fears seemed to reach their terrifying peak, the windy, treelined road opened up to a large courtyard, backed by a large brick house. As I exited the car, I noted it was snowing— the emergency responder’s prediction had been accurate, a storm was coming. The sky was gray and churning above us, and my breath came in short, white pants. Thomas exited the car, and strode toward the house without a word, or offering to help me.

 

“You could at least unlock the trunk,” I complained loudly, my irritation growing as he held up the car keys and clicked them without turning around.

 

“You’re welcome,” he called, before opening the door and walking inside, out of sight. I hurriedly grabbed my bags, puffing as I lugged them towards the house.

 

“Asshole,” I grumbled, all but tumbling inside the doorway. It opened up into a large, sunken living area, with simple—but expensive looking—furniture and a fireplace. Above it was a sleek television, just far enough above the fireplace to be unaffected by the flames.

 

“Take your shoes off at the door!” He yelled from elsewhere in the house. I grumbled—I’d been raised in a shoes off house. He didn’t need to tell _me_ that. The layout was very open, with almost ceiling height windows, looking out into the forest beyond. The entire back wall of the house seemed to be comprised of large windows—something you could never have back home in the city. Too many people.

 

There was a hallway down the left, which he emerged out of, looking at me disapprovingly. “You can put your things in the room down that way. There are already sheets on the bed.” He pointed and raised an eyebrow, as if he was wondering why I was still standing there. I huffed, and marched away, not giving him the satisfaction of looking back.

 

To Thomas’ credit, the room was beautiful; a perfect view of the last dregs of sunlight disappearing below the sea of trees on the sloping hillside, my own bathroom, and a dark wood dresser which matched the bed. I begrudgingly admitted he had _some_ modicum of taste. I collapsed on the bed, slumping back for a moment, before tearing at my snow covered clothes, suddenly too warm inside his luxurious home. I closed the door—and locked it. One never knew with men, especially strangers. I headed for the bathroom—a day of travel wasn’t a smell I wanted on my body anymore. My kinky hair was beginning to frizz from the melting snow, and if I didn’t want to spend an hour styling it tomorrow, I would need to twist it up, and fast. I pulled my hair products out of my toiletry bag—these days that’s all it seemed like there _was_ in my toiletries. I parted my hair with my fingers, twisting and applying product, thinking about my day. It had started out totally normal. Well, not really normal. Normally, I would have been at work with a pounding headache, scouring the internet for something—anything—to put in next week’s paper.

 

I frowned upon remembering that I wouldn’t have an article in the Burst for another three weeks—the length of my involuntary vacation. One of the owners and senior editors had “strongly suggested” I take a break; my work was suffering, I was unhappy, and had accumulated too much vacation time. 

 

“A win/win for everyone”, was how Renner had phrased it. What he should have said was “fuck off to Alaska and freeze to death, Gemma”.

 

I groaned, rubbing my sore back. Driving from the airport, to and through Anchorage, and then down the coast on that shitty road had really done a number on me. Now I had two reasons to hurry up and get in the shower. I finished twisting, and then pulled my hair up into a forward high bun, before wrapping a scarf around my head, disguising my twists as bangs. It was a cute little around the house style I’d begun doing in college, and hadn’t broken the habit of since.

 

I put the water on as hard and hot as it would go before stepping in, and sighing with relief as it beat down on my shoulders. I just stood there a few minutes, letting it work on all the knots and stress that had accumulated during the day. Smirking a little naughtily, I let my hands stray from their intended purpose to my nipples. I knew a good way to relieve stress. I pinched one and moaned, rolling my barbell piercing between my fingers. I bit my lip, sliding my other hand down to the neatly trimmed apex of my thighs, before slipping a finger between my lips to feel the growing wetness there.

 

Suddenly, Thomas’ face flashed before my closed eyes, his lips set in that mocking smile.

 

_Bitch._

 

I felt myself warm at the imagined insult. Ah, fuck. It just wasn’t fair that someone could be so _beautiful_ and still be such an obstinate jackass. Still, i couldn’t deny he was attractive. _Even if I want to punch him in his chiseled jaw_.

 

I rubbed my clit lightly, and let out a quiet moan, before returning my hands to my breasts. I was stopped, however, by a knock at the bathroom door. The heat in my belly went out, replaced by cold lead, with a healthy topping of shame.

 

“There’s dinner if you want to eat.”

 

It was Thomas. I don’t know who else I’d expected, but I was still surprised to hear him. I made sure my voice was steady before I answered.

 

“Thanks. I thought I locked the door.”

 

“I have a key.” he replied, his sultry voice dripping with blatant mockery. He knew I’d locked the door to keep him out, and he’d opened it not because he needed to, but because he wanted me to know he had power over me.

 

What a prick.

 

“That’s comforting,” I muttered. I hadn’t intended for him to hear me, but somehow he had.

 

“I know. One does have to take precautions when strangers are present.” He said, reminding me that I was a stranger to him too. Typically, women had a _lot_ more to fear from accepting rides from strange men than men would, but he also had a right to feel safe inside his own home. I doubted that was the primary purpose behind his little power play, but it was still something to consider.

 

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I said, resigning myself to a regular shower. The urge to play had gone out of me, and even when I was sure that he’d vacated my room, I dressed in the bathroom and didn’t emerge until I was fully clothed. When I opened the bedroom door, I could smell food cooking immediately. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since 3am when I’d gotten up for the airport, and even that was just a couple of granola bars and some coffee. The kitchen was beautiful, I thought sourly. It figured that someone who was such a turd on the inside would surround himself with beautiful things. The island stove top stood in the middle of the kitchen, and Thomas was behind it, sprinkling salt and pepper on something I couldn’t see. I edged closer.

 

“Enjoy your shower?” he asked, his voice, for once, devoid of any hint of irritation.

 

“Yeah. It’s nice. The room, I mean. Thank you, again.” I said, stuttering a little. I wasn’t sure how to respond when he wasn’t insulting me, it had been the norm ever since we’d met hours earlier.

 

“You’re welcome. I hope you eat fish.” He said shortly, gesturing at the various pots and pans on the stove. There was salmon, simmering in something that looked creamy and smelled like garlic, along with some asparagus, and wild rice. There was salad in a bowl on the counter behind him. I wanted to be touched at the effort, but something told me he hadn’t gone out of his way for me—intentionally so.

 

“I do. And thanks.” I was getting tired of thanking him—it was the polite thing to do, and technically the right one, but I got the feeling that he was inwardly gloating about it. He pointed at the cabinet above the sink set into the polished granite countertop.

 

“The plates are in there, help yourself.” He said, before loading food onto a plate he’d taken down for himself. I noted angrily that my assumption about compensation in the car seemed to be untrue—at least outwardly. Thomas was tall and lean, but muscular, easily filling out the clingy black t-shirt he was wearing. Normally I _liked_ bad boys, but he got under my skin. Pissed me off with a look. I was glad I’d be rid of him tomorrow, at least I could look forward to that.

 

_Bet he’s thinking the same thing._

 

I opened the cabinet, stretching upward, and could barely touch the plates with the tips of my fingers. “Move.” He said, suddenly behind me. I could feel his body heat through my flimsy leggings, he was so close. I gasped, and moved aside, as he reached up and plucked down the plate for me, his arm grazing against mine. Suddenly I regretted not wearing more clothes—my typical tank top and leggings didn’t seem to be appropriate. I took the plate from him without a word, trying my best to look unaffected. He smirked, and I knew I wasn’t successful. Still, I had my pride, and I wasn’t about to make it obvious. I dished out my own food, and joined him at the breakfast bar on the other side of the counter. He had poured himself a glass of wine, and before I could fuss about having to get a glass for myself, he produced one for me.

 

Maybe he wasn’t a _complete_ piece of shit.

 

“Thanks.”

 

It was a heady white, and went nicely with the meal he’d prepared. I was surprised—he was a good cook. Better than I’d expected.

 

“So, you’re, uh, from here?” I asked lamely, wanting to wince at how much of a complete _line_ it was.

 

“Can’t you tell by my accent?” he asked snarkily. He probably heard that a lot. I took another sip of my wine.

 

“Sorry. Stupid question.” Thomas raised his eyebrow at my admission, as if to say _“yeah right”._

 

“So what were you doing stuck on the side of the road, Gemma Hendricks?” Thomas asked, his piercing eyes burning right through me. I wasn’t sure why my heart sped up like I was on E, but it did, and I was actually nervous he could hear it trying to hammer it’s way out of my chest.

 

“Uh, I’m on vacation,” I answered, my brain blitzing out of focus when he grinned. “Off of work.”

 

“Well if you didn’t work, it would hardly be a vacation,” he said, his voice even. It took me a moment to figure out he was making fun of me, and I pursed my lips when he smiled wider, his eyes twinkling. I drained my glass, and then grabbed the bottle, pouring another one, which I promptly took a sip of.

 

“And you? I’m guessing you’re an ‘investor’ or something like that, right?” I snapped, motioning around at his elegant kitchen. He didn’t seem offended at my pointed jab, his mouth slightly upturned in a smirk.

 

“Something like that.”

 

He poured himself another glass too.

 

—

 

I remembered finishing the bottle, but not falling asleep on the couch on Thomas’ arm. We’d been talking about something—probably arguing, as I distinctly remembered calling him a “dick weasel”, but that was where my memories ended. The television was on, but there was static on the LCD screen—the satellite was knocked out. Drunk Gemma was not someone I wanted Thomas to meet on the best of days, but I didn’t think one bottle of wine between the two of us was enough to make me act on any naughty thoughts. Besides, we were both fully clothed and sitting up—I’d probably just fallen over. 

 

My head was killing me, and I knew I hadn’t been asleep long, just long enough for the comfortable haze of drunkenness to settle into the head throbbing hangover that was coming. I gingerly exited the couch, fixing my shirt where my bra had slipped out, and padded back to my room, leaving him snoring lightly on the couch, alone. The snow had deepened, outside, and I could see it piling up, almost to the windows. I shuddered, glad to be inside, and not in my car when and if the authorities had come to check it. I shut my door, and burrowed down beneath my blankets, falling asleep for real.

 

When I woke up, it was because Thomas was knocking on my door. He looked handsomely disheveled, his glossy black hair wild.

 

“We’re snowed in.” He glowered, apparently back to his moody self. I ignored him, ducking underneath one of his arms to head back to the entryway. Uncaring of the cold—maybe for the first time in my life—I yanked open the door, and snow drifted into the room, piling at my feet. It was at knee height at the top of the steps—the road was guaranteed to be bad. I just stood there, staring at the expanse of white that covered the courtyard. The driveway was invisible, everything blanketed over by an even coating of snow.

 

The rest of the world may as well have not even existed, for all that snow. I didn’t notice I was shaking until Thomas pulled me away from the door with surprisingly gentle hands, and swept the snow back outside before closing the door.

 

“Go get warmed up before you soak the fucking place,” He said, shoving me lightly towards the living room, where a fire was lit in the fireplace. I’d slept later than I thought. Water had seeped into my thick socks, and soaked my leggings up to the knee. I was freezing. I sat in front of the fire with my hands outstretched, listening to Thomas mop up my mess. I almost felt guilty.

 

Almost.

 

After a while he came in, still in his rumpled shirt from the night before, but instead of jeans, he wore loose sweatpants. I gulped and turned back toward the fire. _He isn’t wearing shit under that,_ I thought, chewing my lip. The weight of him pressed against the seam of the pants, leaving a visible outline. He definitely knew—he just didn’t _care_.

 

Wrong on all accounts, then.

 

I heard him settle on the couch behind me, and I ended up joining him on the couch under a blanket I pilfered from another chair. He flicked on the television without speaking to me, and immediately turned to sports. I shifted boredly—I was a bit on the chubby side, needless to say, athletics bored me. I had always been a chunky kid, more interesting in art and humanities than gym and sports.

I played on my phone, attempting to distract myself. Of course, I got no service way out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, but I amused myself with apps for a couple of hours as soccer, and then football graced the screen. Clearly service was back now that the storm had ceased, but the sky was still dark outside, and I doubted it would last all day. My phone lost it’s appeal after two games, and I tossed it down on the couch beside me, and pursed my lips.

 

“Can we watch something I’d like, too?” I asked, trying not to show how irritated I was at his blatant, forced ignorance of my presence.

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t know—” I had been intending to ask what was on, but he laughed sharply, cutting me off.

 

“If you don’t know, what’s the point of asking?”

 

I knew he was just trying to bait me; he knew he pissed me off. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to me, to see that little smirk rear up on his face. Unfortunately, even knowing all of this, my mouth still betrayed me.

 

“You’re such an asshole!” I spat. It felt good to say it, and not just think it venomously at the back of his pretty head.

 

“If it bothers you so much, there’s the door.” He gestured behind him, in the direction of the front door. I bristled. I wanted to let loose a string of curses that would blow his hair back, but I swallowed them, and stood up, walking off in the direction of the room we’d both designated as mine.

 

“The wifi password is on the fridge in the kitchen.” He called, and I fought the urge to scream. He could have told me that long ago.

 

But he didn’t. On purpose. I stomped into the kitchen, and punched the password into my phone, almost crying with relief when notifications began piling up. Emails, missed calls, voicemail.

 

_“Hey, Gemma, It’s Mr. Renner. Jeremy. You, uh, you never checked into the cabin last night, the owner called me, said there’d been a storm. You okay, kid? Call me.”_

 

Another one, from my mother. _“Gem, baby are you in yet? Are you safe? You know I hate you traveling alone. You said you got in yesterday, but you’re not answering your phone. Call your mother, please!”_

 

 

I sent out texts to everyone who had contacted me, telling them what had happened. I fudged it a little, and said I was staying someplace else in Anchorage, but that I would check into the Cabin in the morning. I really didn’t want my mom freaking out and calling the cops. They wouldn’t even be able to reach me here, and as much as I disliked Thomas, being an incorrigible prick wasn’t a crime.

 

I went back to my room and shut the door, before pulling out my computer and sitting on the bed. I hadn’t even bothered to ask or check for wifi—assuming that he’d tell me if he had it or not. Clearly that had been an incorrect assumption. I plugged the code in, and connected, immediately going to netflix. At least now I had something to do, rather than orbit around Thomas and wait for him to notice me.

 

After a few episodes of various shows, I hopped in the shower, pointedly refusing to talk to Thomas all day. I came back out, and untwisted my hair, leaving it in a pineapple shape. If I was good at anything, it was lounging around watching movies. If he wanted to play stupid games, he could do it on his own. I was confident in that, at least, until I woke up in the middle of the night to complete darkness.

 

My heart beat quickly as I felt my way blindly to the light switch and flicked it frantically, my chest constricting when nothing happened. My phone was dead, as was my computer. I had taken the electricity for granted, and now it was gone. Like an idiot, I hadn’t plugged anything in, and now, I was alone, in the dark. The walls seemed to close in around me and I struggled to breathe. The night before, I had left the bathroom light on, and left it open a crack, just so that I could sleep easy. I hated the dark, I _hated_ it. It scared me, and my mind conjured up images of things that weren’t there. My doctor called it a vivid imagination, mixed with anxiety and mild PTSD.

 

I called it a fucking nightmare.

 

I didn’t remember making any noise, but suddenly my door was open and Thomas was there, a flashlight in hand.

 

“I brought you a torch,” he said, thrusting it at me. I scrambled towards him, towards the light, and grabbed it. If he thought anything about my behavior he didn’t say anything, and he turned to leave.

 

“Wait!” I croaked, my voice catching in my throat. I was ashamed to ask him, because I just _knew_ he would mock me for it later. But I couldn’t help it. My dog, Mae, was with my mom in Jersey, and without her to calm me down, I… I needed _someone_. “Please don’t go.”

 

Tom scoffed. “What, you afraid of the dark?” I could barely see the outline of that mean smirk, and I sighed.

 

“Yes.”

 

I felt panic rise in my chest as he moved to close the door—but then stepped inside as it swung shut behind him. He didn’t say anything as he grabbed my hand, gently, like he did at the door, and led me to the bed, before setting the flashlight down on the bedside table. He shone it towards the door so I could see most of the room. I sat down, panic still causing hiccoughs in my chest. I was embarrassed—it’s hard enough hating a hot asshole, let alone having panic attacks in front of him. To his credit, Tom didn’t say anything, he just grabbed me like I weighed nothing—which was laughably far from true—and positioned me in front of him, my head leaning back against his chest. I didn’t want to feel comforted, I wanted to be angry and embarrassed—but I couldn’t help it. He laid his chin on top of my head like he knew what I needed, and I could _feel_ the deep baritone of his voice thrumming through my bones when he spoke.

 

“Go to sleep, Gemma.”

 

I wanted to protest, but I was sleepy, and if I was being honest with myself, it felt good. Really good.

 

As I was fading out of consciousness, his arms around me, he mumbled something into my hair that vaguely sounded like an apology.

 

 

 

_To be continued..._


	2. Don't fix it

 

Chapter two

 

 

I woke in stages. I became aware of my body parts individually, slowly. I could feel my legs, tangled in the blankets and my heart beat, steady, calm, completely different from last night. _How embarrassing._

 

I could feel my hands, intertwined with—

 

_Thomas._

 

Just thinking his name sent stupid butterflies into my stomach and I frowned. _No,_ I thought angrily, directing all my thoughts downward, to that wicked place between my thighs. _We hate him, remember?_ I became acutely aware of the bulk of him, pressed against my back, emitting soft, sleepy breaths onto the side of my neck. I wiggled experimentally, and he tightened his embrace sleepily, murmuring something that sounded like “no”. Thomas pulled me closer to him in his sleep, andI almost groaned audibly when my ass pressed up against his morning…tree.

 

_He’s even bigger than I thought!_

 

I tried desperately to control my thoughts, but I’d always been a dirty girl at heart, and I found myself Imagining what he looked like, while absently rubbing my thighs together at the growing wetness I felt gathering there.

 

_You stop that._

 

“Stop fidgeting.” He grumbled, his voice catching me off guard. I wondered how long he’d actually been awake.

 

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I looked out the window, and I could see it had snowed again during the night, another few inches. I grimaced.

 

Tom’s hand played absently on the waistband of my sleep shorts.

 

“You have panic attacks in the dark?” For once, I didn’t detect any sarcasm. He was simply asking.

 

“Yeah,” I said lightly, trying not to sound too serious. I didn’t want _him_ to take it seriously.

 

“Any particular reason?” he asked, but I wasn’t going down that road this morning.

 

“You have to be a level ten friend to unlock my tragic backstory,” I quipped, using his surprise at my inappropriate lightheartedness to my advantage, wriggling out of his arms. I brushed my teeth before reentering my room. Thomas was zoned out, staring out the window at the snowy woods. I hadn’t realized last night, but he wasn’t wearing a shirt. A long, detailed snake tattoo wound it’s way up his left side, starting below the waistband of his sweatpants. I was willing to bet it went all the way down his leg, too. I tried to imagine Tom getting a tattoo, and almost laughed. He probably sat stock still through the whole thing, not moving a muscle.

 

He noticed me then, and seemed to size me up.

 

“We need to charge our phones.”

 

The moment we’d shared, whatever it was, was over now, and Thomas was back to his grumpy old self. He stood up out of my bed, and waltzed out of the room. I rolled my eyes, and walked over to the light switch, trying it. Nothing.

 

I followed him out into the main house, watching as he tugged on his boots, and a leather jacket.

 

“How do you intend to charge our phones?” I asked, crossing my arms. I realized, a little late, that I was still wearing my little spandex sleeping shorts and oversized tank top, with no bra, and that crossing my arms, gave him a rather enticing view of my cleavage. His eyes swept over me, and I could swear they lingered.

 

_Yeah right, Gem. No one’s looking at you, you fat idiot._

 

“Clear a path to the car. Charge them off the battery.” He said matter of factly, with his eyebrow raised. I was starting to hate that look. He used it whenever he thought I said something stupid.

 

“Right.”

 

He didn’t put on any other warm clothing, but grabbed the big plastic shovel sitting by the door, and began working. At least the sky was clear now. All we had to do was wait for the cold snap to end.

 

The snow at the bottom of the steps was deep, almost to Thomas’ waist. I watched with no small amount of schadenfreude as he sank into it. I watched him from the door for a while, until he snapped at me to close it, and then, I observed from the front window.

 

The prank came to me out of thin air, with no prelude.

 

_Lock him out._

 

Only for a little while, of course. Just to teach him a lesson about being a rude prick. I innocently strolled over to the door and clicked the lock, waiting with baited breath to see if he noticed. He didn’t, still shoveling.

 

It took over an hour for my plan to come to fruition, and I was sitting in the kitchen, eating a sandwich, when it finally did.

 

Tom banged on the door three times. I giggled.

 

“Gemma, open the damn door, it’s freezing out here.” I remained silent, calmly eating my sandwich. Let him sit out there for a few minutes, see how he liked it. He was rude, arrogant, and pushy, with absolutely no regard for how anyone else around him was feeling. I was feeling a little cruel.

 

He banged again. “Open the fucking door!” Suddenly, he was at the kitchen window, his face tight with anger.

 

“Gemma.” He was yelling, but somehow, he still managed to sound calm and in control.

 

“I’m going to count to ten, and you’re going to unlock my fucking door, little girl.” He growled, and in that split second, I knew my little prank had gone horribly wrong. I’d done something childish and silly, but I’d effectively pissed him off, and well… like a child, I was scared of the consequences.

 

“It was just a prank!” I yelled, but either he couldn’t hear me, or he didn’t care.

 

“One.”

 

“Come on, Thomas.”

 

“Three.”

 

My heart was thudding in my chest. I could still hear him, but he wasn’t by the kitchen any more, he was far away, on the other side of the house. Where the patio was. With the sliding door.I could still hear him counting.

 

“Seven.”

 

I made for the front door, but it was like I was moving in slow motion. As I reached it, I could hear him clucking his tongue at me. He was sodden from the snow, and grinning, his eyes gleaming predatorily.

 

“Ten.”

 

I don’t remember how he got to me so fast, but my heart was thudding in my chest and my knees were weak with shameful arousal. God I hated my traitorous body. One of his hands came about my wrists, pinning them to the door behind me, above my head, I was acutely aware of my mistake in not donning a bra, as my position forced my chest out and up, tantalizingly close to his downturned face. I felt my face grow hot. He could probably see my piercings through my shirt, too.

 

“You’re a bad little thing, you know that?” he said, his fingers skating up the exposed skin of my soft belly. They were icy cold from hours of shoveling, but he didn’t seem to even feel it as he traced invisible lines on my skin. I panted.

 

“You were being a dick,” I spat, with more vitriol than I felt.

 

In my dirtiest fantasies, I couldn’t have imagined what happened next. Thomas lifted one hand, and popped my breast, hard. I gasped, my nipples hardening instantly.

 

“That’s not how you speak to your elders,” he growled, his face so close to mine I could feel his hard breaths against my face. Before I could help it, my mouth opened of it’s own accord, and words spilled out without my permission.

 

 _“Sorry, daddy.”_ Immediately I bit my lip and closed my eyes, embarrassment flooding my brain. How could I have said that? To him, no less? I should be angry, not turned on. And _definitely_ not thinking about allowing him to continue.

 

But then, Tom surprised me again. He growled, leaning forward to lick my lips with his tongue.

 

“Good girl.”

 

I almost hated the warm flush that flooded me at his praise, but I couldn’t. Tom raised his free hand, and slapped my other breast, and I gasped. I had never noticed the size difference between us, but he had a good foot on me, and this couldn’t have been comfortable for him. He released my hands, before using both of his to grab and my breasts, kneading and rolling my nipples between his fingers.

 

“Go to your room.”

 

I could have told him to fuck off, to stop touching, me.

 

But I didn’t really… _want_ to.

 

I walked off down the hall.

 

—

 

I waited for him with baited breath, sitting on the bed, facing the door. I should have known the bastard would make me wait, I thought, frowning. I could hear the faint sound of the shower running—he was taking a bath? While I was waiting for him?

 

Asshole.

 

Anything he could do, I could do better. I decided to freshen up myself, and opted for a quick shower, before grabbing my laciest set of underwear. I made it back to stand in front of the bed just as he closed the door behind himself, his skin still damp from the shower.

 

“I didn’t tell you you could bathe,” he said quietly.

 

“I didn’t know I had to ask permission,” I replied boldly, meeting his eyes. His gaze dragged appreciatively down my body, and although I figured he’d probably punish me for it, I was glad I’d changed.

 

When in Rome.

 

Thomas crossed the room easily, with two strides, and then he was in front of me, his hands on my hips. His fingers were bruising as he yanked me toward him, putting me off balance. “You’re such a defiant bitch,” he said, his voice soft and harsh at the same time. I was acutely aware of his hands on me, his fingers skimming my skin. I felt hot—but I was wearing next to nothing, so I knew it wasn’t from that. It was the aching dampness between my thighs, radiating heat like a furnace. His hands wandered up my body until he reached my breasts—the flimsy little lace scrap I was wearing did absolutely nothing to hide my erect nipples from him, and I could see his eyes on them, his nostrils flaring.

 

“You wore this for me?”

 

“Yes,” I answered breathlessly. I felt momentary anger at the shit eating grin he flashed at me, but it dissipated in the face of the rush of wet heat between my thighs at the sound of his voice. The man was sex _incarnate_. He tweaked my nipple between his fingers, and I gasped, loudly.

 

“Yes who?”

 

I knew what he wanted me to say, and part of me wanted to give in, just say it, let go, and follow where he lead. But the other parts of me, the parts that swore loudly when angered, the part that was bold and unyielding, didn’t budge. I kept my mouth closed tightly, although I couldn’t help but moan deep in my throat when he slapped my other erect nipple.

 

 

“Gemma don’t make me ask again.”

 

He reached behind me and swatted my ass, hard.

 

“Yes, _daddy_.”

 

I’d done a little role-play with previous partners, sure, but this wasn’t just role-play. Thomas expected total submission, and weirdly… I kind of wanted to give it to him. I could hear it in his voice, feel it in the urgency of his hands. He desired obedience. His eyes rested on mine, and I knew, even without experiencing it, that he would give me any and everything I wanted.

 

_I just had to give him what he wanted first._

 

“Mmm, good girl. What do you say when someone gives you a compliment?” he asked, massaging my ass with both hands, kneading my flesh between his fingers. “I know you couldn’t have been brought up with such a fucking filthy mouth, someone taught you some manners.”

 

“Thank you… daddy.”

 

I was rewarded with the feel of his mouth on my lace clad breast, licking me through the fabric. “Good girl, you learn so fast.” I felt heat rise in my belly at his compliment. He was mumbling against my skin, his teeth nipping at me through the bra. “Wanted to do this ever since I woke up… fucking cock-tease is what you are,” he said lowly, his breath cooling the wet spots on my skin. He pushed me back, suddenly, and the backs of my knees hit the bed, forcing me to sit. Tom towered over me, his erect cock almost at eye level, straining against the seam of his sweats. I reached forward tracing a finger over the hard length of him. He hissed at the contact. Thomas’ hand made contact with the top of my head, stroking me in a manner that if he were anyone else, could have been described as affectionate.

 

“Can I…” I paused, my face warming.

 

“Pull me out, little girl,” he said, and I was glad I didn’t have to elaborate. I reached up and fingered the elastic band until I felt him grow impatient, and then pulled them down. His cock sprang out, huge and heavy, the head pushing just out of his foreskin. I licked my lips unconsciously. I hadn’t really ever seen an uncircumcised penis before.

 

Even so, he wasn’t fully erect, just half hard, and still I found myself intimidated by the size of him. I glanced up, and he was wearing a self satisfied smirk. I handled him gingerly, noting that the more I touched Thomas, the harder he got. Finally, it seemed he’d had enough with light touches and exploration, and he held my hands roughly in his, moving them harshly over his cock. “Kiss me.”

 

I tried to rise from the bed, but he shoved me down, and kept my hands on his engorged length. My eyes must have widened with shock, and he grinned down at me, before releasing my hands. It was impossible to deny how much I wanted to do this—if Tom were to lift me now, he’d find a wet spot where my soaked pussy was pressing against the sheets. I leaned forward, pressing my lips against the taut flesh of his erect cock. Experimentally, I laved a sloppy, openmouthed kiss against his head, slipping my tongue just under the edge of his foreskin. Thomas moaned, bucking his hips into my mouth. I did it again, gripping the base of him—he was almost too thick for me to grip with one hand. I ran my tongue along the engorged vein at the underside of his dick, and it throbbed insistently against my tongue.

 

“Put it in your mouth, baby girl.”

 

Thomas’ voice was like black honey. It didn’t matter what he said, so long as he was speaking. I wanted to do anything he wanted me to do; I had never felt more subservient.

 

Or turned on.

 

“Yes daddy.”

 

This time, Tom groaned, grasping my jaw gently with his hand as he placed the tip of his cock in my mouth. He used his other hand to gently pull back his foreskin, his body tensing against me as I gently laved my tongue across the newly exposed skin.

 

“Fuck, open wider, that’s it,” he praised, the words sending another embarrassing rush of moisture to my swollen folds. I shouldn’t have been so wet, Thomas hadn’t even _touched me_. I opened my mouth wider, and he slid himself deeper inside. “Let’s see how deep you can take daddy, hmm?” He thrust gently, the head of his cock bumping against the back of my throat. I prided myself on my ability to give head—I could usually keep pace with the best of them, and I’d had more than one partner refer to me as the best they’d ever had in that regard. But now, I wondered what he thought. If he liked it.

 

Or if he thought I was terrible.

 

A sharp pinch to my nipple told me that Thomas was not only aware of my wandering mind, but that he was displeased with it.

 

“Focus. What could possibly be more important than my cock in your mouth, Gemma?” he asked, his tone serious as he gripped the sides of my face, thrusting a little harder. It was almost like he was seriously asking, and in my pleasure addled brain, I couldn’t find an appropriate response. Thomas moaned, a deep, heady sound that would have sent me to my knees were I not already sitting. He dislodged himself from my mouth with a soft pop, and I licked my lips, my jaw aching a little at the loss of his girth. I rubbed my knees together absently, but he saw the movement, and forced his own knee between them.

 

“Naughty girl,” he breathed, leaning over me, forcing my back against the bed. “Did I say you could please yourself?”

 

I shook my head breathlessly, but Tom wasn’t satisfied with that. He put a single finger under my chin, and tipped it up towards him.

 

“Use your words.”

 

“N-no. No daddy,” I amended quickly, and he stroked my breast gently, before roughly tugging down my bra. I heard the fabric straining, and moved to unhook it, but Thomas batted away my hands. “If I want you to do something I’ll tell you myself,” he chided, tugging until my full breasts had popped halfway out of their see-through enclosures, my nipples just exposed. Thomas made a strangled noise in the back of his throat before attacking them, kissing and sucking and biting until my nipples were sore, but wanting. I keened at the loss of his mouth, and he pushed my hips to the bed with his. I wasn’t sure when he’d shimmied out of his pants, but Tom was bare against me, his cock hard and ready against my thigh.

 

I’d known what this was leading up to, but now, I was nervous.

 

“You’re on the pill, I saw it in your purse.” I wanted to be angry at his invasion of my privacy, but I was also coming to learn that that was his way. Thomas was like a storm. Either you buckled down and tried to outlast him, or you fled before him, but either way he was coming. It was one of the only constants I’d noted.

 

“Yeah.” I said haltingly, the rules of our game temporarily forgotten. He leaned down to nip sharply at my collar bone and I hissed. “Yes daddy.”

 

“Mmm, and has anyone cum in this pussy?” He asked, cupping my wet heat. I wanted to feel indignation at his words, but instead I throbbed, and I knew he could feel it where he was touching me, his fingers sliding against me through my panties.

 

“None.” I answered truthfully, meeting his piercing gaze. _Those eyes…_ “I’ve never… I’ve never done it bareback before.” It was true—I got tested regularly, and religiously avoided men who seemed even a little sketchy about condom use. Tom’s hands moved almost reverently over my body, and I could tell he believed me. He leaned down to capture my lips—his own were surprisingly soft and pliant, and he nibbled my plump lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, before leaning up to whisper dirty things in my ear as he rubbed his cock against me.

 

“So daddy’s going to be the first one to spunk in your belly?” He groaned, and I couldn’t help the loud, wanton moan that escaped my lips when the head of him nudged hard against my clit. I went hot as he panted against me, slipping easily through my sopping folds while his hands burned trails across my skin. “Fuck, make that sound again,” he whispered, his voice filling my ears in the quiet room. I resolutely kept my mouth shut. If he wanted me to make noise, he would have to _make_ me make noise. Tom laughed roughly against my ear. “Stubborn little bitch.”

 

My pussy clenched at his words, and I know he felt it against his cock. Thomas pulled back so he was looking at me. I tried to look away, but his arm came down on the side of my head, stopping me. “Look at me. I want you to look at me when I sink into you.”

 

That was the only warning I got before he edged the head of his pulsing, erect sex into my aching heat. I kept my eyes locked on his as he sank inch after inch of himself into me, forcing me open with his hips. The thickness of him alone was challenging enough, and I felt so full, wondering how there was room inside of me for all my organs, plus his cock.

 

I hadn’t realized I’d spoken until he chuckled, kissing my forehead. “The human body is an amazing thing.”

 

Thomas began situating us, putting both my wrists in one hand he held above my head, and the other digging into my hips, pressing his cock further into my center. I moaned something unintelligible. I was close to orgasm just from him filling me, and I couldn’t imagine how it could get any better.

 

And then he started to move.

 

I was glad we were alone in the middle of nowhere, because the noises that tore from my throat were animalistic. Thomas howled with me, forcing himself in and out of my tight, accepting pussy. I could hear him saying something, but I wasn’t listening. All my attention was focused on the building heat in my belly as he moved over me, thrusting hard.

 

“You like daddy’s cock, baby?” he asked as I squirmed against him, sweaty and wanting.

 

“Oh yes, daddy!” I cried, no longer caring about how the words sounded falling from my lips. I knew what he wanted, even if he didn’t ask me for it. “It’s so big, ah, I wasn’t even sure, mm, I could take it,” I said, my statement jarred and interrupted by his non-stop fucking, and the cries that came from my mouth unbidden. He wanted to hear how good it felt, he wanted to know that he was making me feel good.

 

“Oh _fuck_. So daddy’s girl has a nasty mouth on her, does she?” He asked teasingly, slowing his strokes until he was moving languidly against me, my nipples rubbing hard against his chest. Tom pulled out, and slapped my thigh when I pouted. “Turn over.” I scrambled to obey, eager to have the heavy weight of him inside me again. I rested my forehead against the bed, but raised my ass high in the air, and he groaned appreciatively. “Good girl.” He kneaded my cheeks before pulling them apart. I peeked under my arm to catch him staring admiringly at the wetness between my legs.

 

“Please,” I moaned, unable to keep silent any longer. I knew I wasn’t supposed to speak unless he asked me something, but I couldn’t help it, the need eclipsing my desire to play by his rules.

 

“Please what?”

 

“Please fuck me, daddy,” I whined, wiggling my hips for emphasis. He chuckled, the dark sound making me impossibly wetter.

 

“All in good time,” he said, swatting my ass with his bare hand. “All in good time.”

 

Thomas wasn’t anything less that cruel as he played with me, threatening, when I fidgeted, to tie me up. I believed him, so I did my best to keep still, even when he leaned forward and gave my pussy a long, hard lick, ending with his teeth pulling gently on my clit. I whimpered, and begged again, completely unashamed.

 

I wanted to cum so badly, but he wouldn’t let me, keeping me teetering on the edge of release.

 

“Please, daddy, please, I want to cum. Please let me?” I asked desperately, wondering where this wanton, needy harlot had come from, and what she had done with my brain. Thomas made an appreciative grunt deep in his chest as he sunk two long, dextrous fingers into me and curled them, making me shudder against him.

 

“Soon.”

 

Fuck, I was wet. I could hear the wet sounds of him inside me as if they were playing on a speaker. “See how wet you are? Fuck you don’t even _know_ how good you feel inside. Tight,” he said, scissoring his fingers inside my throbbing pussy. “Wet.” He rubbed my clit with his thumb and I bucked against him. “So fucking soft.”

 

I moaned pitifully. “If I feel so good, then fuck me!” I groaned, pushing my hips back against his hand. It was good, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t a fair trade for the hot, heavy length of him. He pulled his fingers from me, and I moaned as he replaced them with the head of his cock. God it felt so good, the head of him pushing into me, rubbing up against that spot that made me see stars. He pulled me back roughly, slamming our hips together, forcing himself against me _right there_ and I couldn’t help it. I knew Thomas would add it onto his list of “things to punish Gemma for”, but I didn’t care. I was coming so hard I seized against him, crying out as he fucked me right through my orgasm, moaning as my pussy milked him. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears, and I could feel my legs shaking as I struggled to hold myself up under his onslaught.

 

“Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ ” I cursed, tearing at the pillows. I almost wanted him to stop, it felt too good, him still moving inside me as my insides clenched around him.

 

“Bad little bitch,” he cursed, and I moaned at the insult. “I _never_ fucking said you could cum.” Thomas picked up the pace, and it was all I could do to hang on, the pleasure being forced out of me like water from a damp rag. “Daddy is gonna spank you,” Thomas growled, his voice making me tighten around his engorged cock. I was surprised—I’d never come more than once during sex—and he hadn’t even touched my clit, yet here I was, ready to pop again.

 

I heard the blow before I felt it, and my ass smarted from the impact. I hissed, jerking away from him. Thomas grabbed my hips, yanking me back.

 

“That’s for getting off the bed when I told you to wait.”

 

I wanted to argue that he hadn’t explicitly told me not to do anything, but the words died in my throat, replaced by a strangled groan. He reared back and slapped me again, and I cried out.

 

“That’s for locking me out of my own home, you dirty little girl.” He spanked me again, each touch of his palm making me clench him. Thomas leaned down, pinning me against the bed, forcing himself even deeper inside me. “Oh, fuck. Gonna…” The minute I felt him pulse inside me, I came too, shuddering and gasping underneath him as he throbbed loosing himself inside me.

 

Thomas held me still until his dick stopped jerking inside me, just breathing gently into my hair. I tried to wiggle out from underneath him, but he nibbled the back of my shoulder, nipping harshly, a warning. I stilled.

 

After a few drowsy minutes of stillness, Thomas stirred, pulling out of me with a wet sucking sound. I was too exhausted to make a fuss about how he simply nudged the covers back up over us and pulled me to his chest. I hadn’t had the opportunity to explore him much, and I was unable to help my curiosity as my fingers skirted over the hard planes of his chest.

 

“Stop it, or I’ll throw you out.”

 

“This is my bedroom.”

 

He harrumphed without replying, so I assumed it was safe to continue. I felt asleep like that, sated and worn completely out.

 

—

 

When I woke up the next morning, my bed partner was gone, and his side of the bed was cold, indicating he had been gone a considerable amount of time. Good. It saved me the embarrassment of having to face him first thing in the morning. I sighed, walking to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash up. I still smelled like sex, and part of me wanted to wash off all the… bodily fluids before doing anything else. I showered longer than I’d meant to, and when I got out, Thomas was back in my room, his lips a little blue with cold.

 

I sat on the bed, rubbing lotion into my skin.

 

“Roads are still blocked.”

 

I shook my head. “Figures.”

 

The snow had melted some, but not enough to free the car, or clear the road. It was still too high for that. It was the end of fall, but it was still warm enough to keep the snow from sticking around for too long. I decided I would make lunch, considering that Tom had been cooking most of our meals. Besides, everything in the fridge was thawing out with the electricity being out. Thomas watched me silently ransacking his kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers to familiarize myself with what he had available. His face passive as I puttered around, he didn’t seem to mind my invasion as much as he did my silence. He seemed to be waiting for me to acknowledge him, just so he could cooly brush me off, but I wasn’t giving in. Thomas did everything possible to place himself in my way—standing in front of the fridge like a bad tempered statue until I asked him to move, leaning back against the counter, so that I would have to brush by him as I passed.

 

Thomas was an obvious example of damaged male entitlement-he wanted me, he wanted my attention, but he didn’t feel obligated to make me feel good outside of fucking me. It wasn’t like I liked him—I wasn’t looking for emotional attachment and validation from him, but I didn’t like feeling like a fuckhole.

 

Thomas was going to respect me, or he was never going to worm his way back into my bed.

 

I’d decided to make lentil stew, something I made a lot on cold nights at home. My vegetables and beans were just beginning to simmer, and I leaned over the pot, sniffing appreciatively. Tom had perched himself at the breakfast bar, his handsome face cradled in his hand, a mask of bored indifference firmly in place. I tried to make my silence seem effortless—as though I wasn’t so much ignoring him as I was focusing on my work, which I suspected would be even worse.

 

All the while, I wondered why I was even bothering to play this game with Thomas. He was a dick—entitled, bossy, rude… and the man had hardly said 50 words to me. I could feel his eyes on me as I cooked, burning into the back of my neck, but I forced my muscles to remain relaxed.

 

“You’re upset about last night.”

 

The sound of his voice startled me, and the spoon I was stirring with clanged loudly against the side of the pot.

 

“Why would I be upset?” I asked, glancing at him over my shoulder. He was leaning on the counter, arms crossed, smirking. “I’m a consenting adult. And absolutely nothing has changed.”

 

“Is that right?” he asked softly, and I forced down the hot flush that tried to creep up my neck.

 

“You’re still an asshole, what’s there to feel different about?” I snorted.

 

I could hear him chuckling quietly behind me, like he knew something I didn’t. I put the lid on the pot, and put a timer on my phone, to remind me to check the stove. I’d wandered away and gotten distracted while cooking before, and I didn’t want to burn down Thomas’ home—even if the thought of torching his car had crossed my mind, briefly.

 

“I could have left you out there,” he replied pointedly, and I rolled my eyes.

 

“So because you could have let me die, I should be okay with you talking to me like a dog?” I retorted,rounding on him. For the first time, he seemed a little surprised. “Not even a dog,” I muttered, shooting him a glare. “You’re probably really nice to animals.” He started to say something, but I cut him off, glad, for once, to have control of my conversation with him. “I didn’t owe you sex because you were nice to me.”

 

“I never said that.”

 

“No, but you implied it.”

 

Thomas didn’t seem to have an answer, and I didn’t wait around to hear one. I did my best to calmly walk away, although all I wanted was to stomp my feet. I considered myself fairly mature on even the worst of days, but this _man_ drove me up a wall.

 

I spent the next twenty five minutes in my room, brooding. I showered and changed, noting with a frown that my skin still smelled like Tom—sandalwood and rosemary. He probably rubbed the oil into his thick, gleaming locks, I thought with a frown. He may have been a gruff, foreboding butthead, but he took pretty good care of himself. The fridge was full of healthy food; fresh vegetables, fruit, lots of fish. I didn’t really eat much meat myself, and when I did, I opted for fish. I was surprised he seemed to have a similar palette, but it was probably more due to local availability than active choice.

 

When my alarm went off, I silenced it quickly, and peeked out of my room. Thomas was nowhere in sight. I felt a little bad about lambasting him, but he’d deserved it. The kitchen was empty too, and my soup was almost done. I tasted, adding more seasoning, a little more water, to give the beans room to expand. I lowered the temperature, and set my phone again. As I moved quietly back to my room, I heard a loud cough.

 

Where was Thomas?

 

I peered into the living room, but it was barren as well. I shivered—it was chilly in here for some reason. I grabbed the blanket off of the couch, and headed to the patio, where the door was open. Thomas was outside, wearing his jacket, looking out at the woods. The snow had melted some, though it was still bitter cold.

 

“You should wear a sign that says _‘I love Pneumonia.’_ “

 

“I have actually _had_ pneumonia.” he retorted without looking at me, and I laughed in spite of myself. He seemed as surprised to hear the sound as I was, and finally glanced over his shoulder at me, his bright blue eyes unreadable.

 

“How did you get it?” I asked, genuinely curious. At first, I worried that he would snort, and say something venomous, but after our exchange in the kitchen, he didn’t seem to keen to rekindle my anger. Thomas exhaled, and I was surprised as his breath hung in the air, but I realized, somewhat belatedly, that it was smoke. He was out here smoking. I appreciated him not doing it in the house, but I wasn’t fool enough this time to mistake him for a good samaritan. He just didn’t want to ruin his furniture. I didn’t blame him—that stuff probably cost a mint.

 

“When I was twelve, some boys from my boarding school locked me out of my dorm for two days.” He said, raising the cigarette to his lips. His breath hitched, and he exhaled quickly. I sat down on the iron chair beside him, wrapping myself in the thick woven blanket I’d pilfered from inside.

 

“That’s horrible.” I didn’t think I could actually, genuinely feel sorry for him, but I did. He offered me the cigarette without turning, and I raised my eyebrow at him, before squinting. I wasn’t wearing my glasses—and I hated contacts—so I hadn’t bothered on trying to focus on the smoldering white tube in his hand. I sniffed, before gasping like a little old lady.

 

_He’s smoking fucking weed!_

 

I didn’t like cigarettes—they were horrible for you. But weed was different. They rarely drug tested at my job—trusting us to keep ourselves in check. I indulged occasionally. Besides—it was legal in Alaska.

 

I accepted the joint from him, inhaling slowly.

 

“Horrible things happen.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

We sat there in silence for a while, just passing the joint back and forth. “Why do you live out here?” I asked suddenly, cocking my head in his direction. “Don’t you, you know, get lonely?”

 

“There are plenty of people to annoy me in town, trust me.” he replied, stubbing out the end of the joint in the ashtray on the patio table. “And living in seclusion certainly has it’s benefits.” He practically purred at me, and I swallowed thickly. Whatever weed he’d been smoking was strong, and I felt floaty and lightheaded. I yawned, pretending I hadn’t heard the heated reference to what I assumed ended up being incredibly loud sex.

 

“Food’s probably ready now,” I said, looking at my phone. The alarm was set to go off in a few minutes, and I needed to check it. I knew what Thomas was doing—he was trying to seduce me. I didn’t think he’d intended on buttering me up with weed, but I didn’t think he was above using my dreamy state to get what he wanted. I could hear him padding after me, but I focused on checking the food. Even when he wedged his huge body between my back and the counter behind the stove, I tried to pay him no heed, clicking off the burner, and leaning down to stir.

 

“You just going to ignore me for the next three days until the snow melts, little girl?” He rasped, and I could feel the heat of him just behind me. If I leaned back a little, my ass would be fully pressed against his burgeoning erection.

 

“No one’s ignoring you—”

 

Thomas growled at me, grabbing my hips with both hands before pulling me back roughly against him. I gasped, cursing as he kneaded the flesh of my hips with punishing fingers.

 

“You’re a mouthy bitch, Gemma.” He said bluntly, his teeth nipping the back of my neck where my hair was pulled up. “The silent treatment’s not your style.” I could feel him through the loose pants he wore, already half hard. I hated how I felt when he said my name, hot and wanting like that.

 

“How do you know anything about my style?” I taunted, and he gripped me harder, the threat unspoken. “You’ve known me for four days.”

 

“And I can _still_ make you cum harder than any man you’ve ever met,” He said, his breath hot against my ear. I wanted to retort that that little tidbit had nothing to do with anything, but the words stuck in my throat. I didn’t know how he knew that was true, but I was hard pressed to think of another time I had orgasmed so hard, and so readily. My behind was still a little sore from where he’d spanked me last night, and he had to know it, the way he kneaded the fleshy globes of my bottom, paying special attention to the sore spots.

 

My body buzzed. I wasn’t sure if it was from him or the joint, but it was probably both. “I don’t see… what that has to do with anything,” I said finally, my voice softer than I meant for it to be. My hunger wasn’t even a second thought anymore, all my hazy brain could focus on were his big hands. I cursed myself for smoking—he was one of those people that got all _heated_ when they smoked.

 

Turns out, so was I. Tom was so much taller than I was, stronger too. He manipulated my body easily, turning me so that I was facing him. The space between the island stove and the counter wasn’t meant to be used this way, and to be comfortable, I had to lean forward, pressing my breasts against his chest so that my thick ass wasn’t pressed hard against the stove counter. Thomas leaned down to nip the shell of my ear.

 

“Can you tell I’m an ass man?” he growled, gripping my cheeks in either hand. I _had_ noticed—he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of it. Though his demeanor and general mood toward me didn’t seem to have changed, he’d been finding reasons to touch me all day, usually in the vicinity of my lower back. It had been too much to be accidental, but I wasn’t sure, until now.

 

“Yeah,” I said, my nails scoring lines on his chest through his t-shirt. I felt hot pride well in my chest when he moaned, the throaty sound sending shockwaves straight to my pussy.

 

He ran his tongue along the side of my face before squeezing again and groaning. “It was the first thing I noticed about you,” he said lewdly, cupping my bottom from underneath. “How fat your ass was.” I narrowed my eyes and pinched his side.

 

“Pervert.”

 

Tom didn’t say anything, he just slapped my ass. Hard. I keened. “That’s no way to talk to your daddy.”

 

“You’re not my—” he spanked me again, and I gasped, tears gathering in my eyes. _“Daddy!_ ”

 

“Good girl,” he purred, and I clenched, my body shuddering. I could feel his dick, hard already, through his pants.It was hot against my belly. Acquiescing to his demands had been a complete accident, but he took that as victory anyway, continuing to knead my ass, like a cat. “When did you get your nipples pierced?” he asked, probably because they were hard as rocks, pressing against the hard planes of his chest.

 

“I was nineteen.”

 

Thomas groaned quietly, releasing one of my ass cheeks to reach up and tweak one of my nipples, rolling it in his fingers. I idly wondered why all my bras were so thin. “I did it— _ah_ —on a dare,” I elaborated, licking my lips and squirming against him. What was it about Tom that made me _want_ to submit?

 

“What a brave girl.” he purred, his voice making me clench my thighs together. He dipped his finger under the waistband of my shorts, pulling them taut before letting go and letting it snap against my skin. “Take these off.” Thomas released me from the cage of his arms long enough to wiggle out of my shorts. I hadn’t even straightened back up when he tapped a finger against my panty clad bottom.“These too.”

 

When I was sufficiently naked, he picked me up and sat me on the counter, before grabbing my thighs and pulling me all the way to the edge. I couldn’t lean back all the way, my back met the breakfast bar before too far. Like this, though, I had a straight view down my body to Thomas’ head between my legs. “Open up for daddy,” He said, swatting at my thigh. Without thinking I spread my thighs. It hadn’t even occurred to me to disobey him. He laved a kiss on my inner thigh, before nibbling the sensitive skin there. “What a pretty pink puss,” He breathed, and I clenched, my face flushing, knowing he could see it. “You’re so wet and I’ve not even touched you yet.”

 

“I have no idea why,” I panted defiantly, expecting a pinch or a slap, but none came. He chuckled, before kissing my other thigh in the same spot.

 

“You don’t like me, Gemma,” He said, pushing my legs a little further apart and then running a finger through my soaking folds. “But your pretty pussy sure does.” Before I could respond, he slid his long index finger into me, curling it against my pubic bone. I moaned pitifully, thrusting my hips against him. He pumped gently a few times, before slipping a second finger in with the first.

 

“Oh fuck,” I cursed, my head lolling back. I could practically picture the grin on his handsome face.

 

“You have such a dirty mouth, Gemma.” He said, my name spilling like black honey off of his lips. He leaned down to lave a hard lick against my swollen clit, and I cried out, more curses spewing from my lips. “If you don’t stop, Daddy’s going to have to shut you up,” He murmured, his lips against my cunt. I couldn’t help clenching around his fingers at the threat.

 

“Sorry, daddy,” I apologized, hating how breathy my voice sounded in my own ears. I knew he loved it, though.

 

“Play with your tits for me.” Thomas said, and I cracked open one eye. He was staring up at me, his face buried in my dripping center, one hand thrusting into me lazily. I strongly suspected the other was around his cock. “Don’t make me say it again, Gemma.”

 

I went to take my bra off, but remembered that he liked fucking me in it, so I mirrored his actions from last night, and simply pulled my tits out, my pierced nipples poking over the tops of the fabric. He growled against me, the sound vibrating through my clit. I palmed my breasts with both hands, squeezing, pinching my nipples just like how I did when I was alone. He licked at me with more fervor, pulling his fingers out with a disturbingly erotic squelch, and pressed his tongue inside my passage instead. I whimpered.

 

Thomas pulled away from me, and I sat up, reaching for him, immediately missing the warmth of his hands on my skin. “Patience, you dirty girl.” He chided, pressing me back against the counter with one finger in the middle of my chest. He stood up, then, leaning over me to line his cock up with my opening, hissing as he slid home.

 

“Oh shit,” I moaned, the hard length of him working in and out of me, pressing hard against my cervix.

 

“What did I tell you?” He growled, punctuating each word with a hard thrust that made sparks fly behind my closed eyelids. “About that filthy? Fucking? Mouth?” I dug my nails into his back and did my best to hold on as he laid into me, and I could feel wetness seeping underneath my thighs. Thomas grabbed at my breasts with one hand, playing with them while he fucked me slow and hard. “I can feel your cunt clench up every time I do this,” he said, pinching my nipple. I couldn’t help rolling my hips into his. “Just like that,” he purred, grinding his hips into mine. I bore down on purpose, clenching my pussy around his thrusting cock. Thomas groaned, and shuddered, his forehead dropping to mine.

 

“You filthy little bitch,” he panted, and I did it again, wrenching another groan out of him. “I didn’t think your cunt could get any tighter.” he said, reaching down between us to pinch and pull at my clit. I cried out at the sensation, spreading my legs wider and thrusting my hips towards him wantonly.

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I got the better of you,” I groaned, and he smirked down at me.

 

“Cheeky cunt.” He snarled, capturing my mouth with his own, nibbling on my lower lip, sucking on my tongue until I was clenching around his invading prick, almost sobbing from the sensory overload. My every nerve ending was focused on the pleasure he was giving me.

 

“I’m gonna cum,” I moaned pathetically, writhing against the counter. Thomas bit my collarbone harshly, and absently I suspected there would be a bruise later, but I didn’t care enough to scold him. His cock was buried in me, his fingers on my clit, and I could feel my orgasm building, my spine tingling with it’s intensity.

 

“Beg.” he said, leaning away from me so that he could watch my face. I flushed, embarrassed, but I couldn’t close my eyes. “Beg daddy to cum.”

 

I tried to deny him at first, and kept my mouth shut resolutely, until he slowed his hips to a snails pace. I cried out desperately, and tried to force his hips against me, but Thomas was stronger than I was.

 

“Please, daddy,” I whimpered, rubbing against him like a bitch in heat. “Please, please let me cum?”

 

“How bad do you need it?” he asked, resuming his previous speed. Heat burst in my belly, and I panted, licking my lips and grinding against him in earnest. “Tell daddy how bad you need it.”

 

“So bad! Mm, so bad, please!” I was rambling now, and I would have said anything he wanted if he would just let me cum. I was so close, fire was racing through my veins. He chuckled darkly, tracing one of my nipples lightly with his finger.

 

“If you don’t cum by the time I count to three, I won’t let you cum at all, Gemma.” He said wickedly, his tongue tracing my lips. He deepened his strokes, pushing deliciously against me and I groaned.

 

“One.”

 

I felt myself tightening as my eyes slid shut. I mumbled gibberish, shaking in his arms as he continued to fuck me.

 

“Two.” I gasped, colors exploding behind my eyes as I came, seizing down on his cock.

 

“Three.” Another ragged cry tore from my throat as I shuddered against him. I could hear his own breath coming in sharp pants as he rutted into me, groaning as he found his own completion. I traced little patterns on his back as he bit down into my shoulder, and I could feel him spurting inside me, the tip of his cock pressed hard against the entrance of my womb.

 

_Good fucking thing I’m on birth control._

 

We stayed like that for a few minutes before Thomas stirred, his lips working against the bite he’d left. That was two bruises, plus my severely abused ass.

 

He didn’t seem too keen to move, however, staying pressed up against—and inside—me.

 

“Plan on letting me up any time soon?” I grumbled. How was it that he managed to irritate me during my post coital bliss?

 

“I’m comfortable.”

 

“I’m not, I’m sitting in a wet spot the size of Texas. Move, Thomas.”

 

Just to show me he was boss, Thomas remained where he was for several more minutes, before rising off of me, his half hard dick sliding easily out of me where we were joined.

 

“You get so wet.”

 

My cheeks burned—I didn’t want to hear anything like that outside of sex. “Shut up.”

 

 

 

 

_To be continued…._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying it? Hating it? Please review! Also, just to clear things up: yes, my main character is black. I hope that doesn't stop any of you from being able to relate to her! I'm googling up some faceclaims, or I may even do a little sketch to show you what she looks like... Anyway, enjoy! Please leave kudos and you know, feed the starving author, and all that. :)


	3. The best laid plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting! Please continue; let me know what you're thinking about the story's progression. I have a plot skeleton typed up, but every time I write it changes a little, so this is a journey for me too! I also found some really great references for Gemma and Tom, so I hope that helps you all picture our characters :)
> 
> *Rubs my filthy, devious little hands together* Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We ate in the living room, in front of the television. The power had come back on at some point, though neither of us knew exactly when. With my luck, it had probably been while Thomas was fucking me silly. I got there first, and snatched the remote, and Thomas didn’t reach for it when he came in. He had one of those smart televisions, with netflix and hulu on it, so naturally, I logged into both of them, surfing the various options. Thomas had lit the fireplace before going into the kitchen to make himself a bowl of soup, and I knew I didn’t have much time. I scrolled quickly, selecting the first thing that piqued my interest, a show called **_Black Mirror._**

 

The credits were starting as Thomas came in and sat beside me, his hair wet from the shower he’d insisted we take after he finally let me off the counter. He would have had me in the shower too, except I threatened to withhold sex from him if he kept me from eating lunch for one more minute.

 

He was startlingly accommodating after that.

 

“It’s good.” He commented gruffly, and I smirked to myself. That was probably the highest compliment I was going to get out of him about my food, and I took it without complaint. We’d both come down from the high, and I vowed to be more careful the next time I smoked with him—that stuff was way stronger than what I usually had at home. I took our bowls into the kitchen, and when I returned, Tom had stretched across the couch, his long legs in my spot. I sat on the edge, nudging him.

 

“Hey. Move.”

 

He said nothing, and kept his eyes on the screen. I slapped at his leg with my hand. “Move. Over.”

 

Thomas sighed, and then shifted, but didn’t move his legs. He simply grabbed me, pulling me down and back against his chest. “Shh.”

 

He was almost likable when he was like this. Until his snarky, entitled, holier-than-thou attitude kicked in again, and I was reminded that he was a complete and total douche.

 

A few episodes in, and I announced that I was switching to the weather channel, to check on the progress of the storm. Thomas “hmm’ed” quietly, but otherwise said nothing. I didn’t know if he was getting a kick out of me bossing him around, but like all men, he was pliant after a round of bone melting sex. I assumed that he was giving me a little leeway, in hopes of continuing… whatever it was we were doing. I _had_ threatened to cut off his supply.

 

I was okay with it being a vacation fling—it wasn’t like I spent a lot of time in _Alaska_ , for godssakes. I was only here because the ticket was cheapest, and the cabin was cute and weed was legal.

 

The weatherman came on after too long, and I watched intently as he described the system of the storm that had passed over us. We weren’t due for much more snow, but the freezing winds and low temperatures would keep the impassable whiteness outside around for another few days.

 

“We’ll be back to our warm fall weather before you know it,” he assured, and I scoffed.

 

“If forty degrees is warm, I don’t know what cold is.”

 

Thomas chuckled, his chest vibrating behind me. “What’s warm where you live?” He asked.

 

“Sixty. No, sixty-five.”

 

“Pussy.” He retorted, and I bristled.

 

“I’m from New York! It gets cold there!” I defended, and he laughed harder. It was strange hearing the sound; I wasn’t used to it. “How long have you even lived here?”

 

“Ten years.”

 

My eyes bugged out. “Ten years? How old are you, Thomas?”

 

“Thirty. I know you’re twenty seven.”

 

“Stop looking in my purse.”

 

“I only looked once,” He said defensively, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I came here when I was nineteen, and I never left.

 

“You’ve lived in this house for ten years. Alone.”

 

“I know practically everyone in town, Gemma. I’m hardly a loner.”

 

I rolled my eyes, and switched back over to netflix. I couldn’t focus on the show, though.

 

I kept imagining a 19 year old Thomas, gangly and quiet, sitting alone in front of the fire, watching the snow fall.

 

—

 

“The road’s clear.”

 

Thomas was standing in the doorway, motioning to the driveway, where I could finally see down the road to the first curve, where it bent into the trees. I scampered over the back of the couch, ignoring the roll of his eyes as I ducked beneath his arm to peer outside. He’d gone out earlier to salt the road, and had driven up to the highway to check it too. 

 

“Finally!” I breathed. He muttered something rude, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was glad to be leaving—I’d paid good money for this trip, and I didn’t want to see it thwarted by snow and the town asshole. I turned back to Thomas, who was watching me with a single eyebrow raised, his expression undecipherable. 

 

“I can take you into Blumfield today. You can get the keys for your rental thing.”

 

I had to admit, I was starting to get cabin fever. The last three days had passed dreamily, sleeping and eating and lounging, watching the snow slowly melt, inch by inch, revealing the road. Yesterday, as if he’d known I would be leaving the following morning, he was inside me at every available opportunity, fingers, tongue, cock, every bit of himself he could manage. It was like he wanted to make his mark on me—though I felt it was less affection than it was ownership. The last time we’d fucked, heatedly in my bed, he’d panted out how hard it made him that he was my first. I’d disagreed—there had been men before him, and there would be after—and he had thrust into me punishingly, his hands pulling roughly at my flesh.

 

 _“If you haven’t felt a cock raw, have you ever really felt one at all?”_ he’d taunted, fucking me until I relented and came, sobbing and shaking in his arms. Returning to my room, I packed up my things, and then watched as Thomas dragged a bag of rock salt from the garage to the back of his truck. He started up the truck and honked the horn loudly, and I rolled my eyes.

 

As much as some things change…

 

I climbed into the passenger seat, struggling like last time, and he chuckled.

 

“Thanks. Again, for letting me stay. I know you didn’t have to.” I said, staring out the window at the tree line as it slid by.

 

“You’re welcome. You paid in full,” he said lasciviously, and my traitorous pussy throbbed in response.

 

“Har har, Hugh Hefner.” I tugged on a strand of my hair. The ride into town was only twenty minutes—and only because Thomas had to stop and salt patches of the road to get through them. Blumfield was quaint, idyllic—everything I’d pictured when I booked the ticket. Somewhere I could do nothing but explore and occasionally indulge at the quaint coffee shops. Despite the cold, there were many houses with yards and white picket fences, with well used play-sets and the occasional beer bottle.

 

The quintessential small American town.

 

Maybe that was why Thomas seemed so out of place here. My cabin was on the far side of town, and my rental car was waiting for me outside. I’d asked the tow truck guy to deliver it to a local repairman—Thomas had said something about Jerry’s being the best place to go, and since his ridiculous car seemed well cared for, I’d asked him to take it there. The middle aged man had offered to drop it off for me after fixing it—the shit heap needed a new battery. Of course, being the cautious soul I was, I’d flown by the seat of my pants and not gotten rental insurance, which meant I had to cover the cost myself. At least I had a ride again, I thought bitterly, staring at the beat up old junker resting in the driveway.

 

There was movement at the curtains, and the old woman who owned the little house peeked out the front door, and smiled when she saw me exiting the big black vehicle.

 

“Oh you made it! Lovely,” she said, grasping my hands. “We were so worried!” She exclaimed, waving her hands expressively. The coat she was wearing was a little too big, making her look even smaller. “My grandson, he set the website up for me, and he said you were caught in the storm!”

 

“Yeah, well, I got lucky.” I said tightly, not wanting to praise Thomas—especially when he was seated not five feet away from me.

 

“She certainly did,” Thomas quipped from behind me. The woman peered around me, and smiled wider. “Good afternoon, Mabel.” She waved at him, patting her thinning gray hair absently. I almost laughed out loud. It seemed no one was immune to his devilish charms—young or old.

 

“Thomas! Oh you sweet boy,” she praised, and I had to stop myself from snorting and saying something that probably would have made Mabel cancel my reservation on the spot. Sweet boy? _This_ Thomas? “You picked her up! He’s such a nice young man,” Mabel said to me, before grabbing my arm to lead me inside. “Get her bags, will you dear?” She called, and I smirked over my shoulder at him as Thomas grimaced before grasping the handle of my suitcase. “He’s single you know,” She whispered loudly, giving me a conspiratorial wink, and I shuddered.

 

Yeah, uncontrollable assholery and pettiness tended to keep you from finding that “special someone”.

 

The sweet little cottage was only four rooms, the bedroom, a small living room, an eat in kitchen, and the bathroom. Thomas stood awkwardly in the doorway, and he was so tall that his head came close to brushing the top of the entryway.

 

“You’re letting the cold in!” Mabel chided, and he stepped in, closing the door behind him. There was a little yard out back, with a table and two chairs. It was certainly less luxurious than Thomas’ home, but clearly he and I had a different set of standards. _And a completely different bracket of zeroes in our bank accounts._

 

“Out here’s the yard! You can go get wood in the forest and have fires! Chris will help you set it up.” She said proudly. Clearly she loved this little house, and I wondered where she was living now, and why she’d given it up. “You and your friends can smoke out side, but please not inside the house,” she said, and I blushed, wondering if I smelled at all like weed. Thomas hadn’t smoked with me today, but still. That was also assuming she wasn’t talking about cigarettes. I nodded, ignoring the fact that I was alone here, and had no friends other than Thomas, who didn’t really even count in the loosest definition of the word.

 

Mabel gave me the key, and her phone number, along with her grandson’s, who she told me was _also_ single, though not as handsome as Thomas—in her own words. She left shortly after, and Tom stood in the hall as I lugged my suitcase onto the bed and opened it.

 

“I suppose I’ll see you around town.”

 

I looked at him then, too big, looming in the doorway, his face a mask of indifference. He’d probably been hurt before—who hadn’t? And now everything was about the physical. I knew his type, I’d dated them over and over throughout college. I was relieved I’d even been able to accomplish my vacation whoopee early, and could concentrate on doing other, more productive things than being driven completely bonkers by a hot weirdo with a penchant for insulting me.

 

“Yeah. I’ll be living here for three weeks so. I’m sure we’ll run into each other.” I tried to match the level of nonchalance in his voice, bending over to place an item of clothing on the bed. I didn’t hear Thomas’ footsteps as he moved toward me. One moment I was alone in the room, with him outside, and the next he was practically on top of me, and I could feel the heat of him through both our jeans.

 

“I’m sure we will.” He purred, his fingertips skimming the sliver of skin where my shirt had ridden up. I gasped and straightened, turning, intent on shoving him, but Thomas, who was apparently as agile and quiet as Batman, was gone before I could catch up, the front door closing solidly behind him.

 

I tossed my purse on the bed and huffed.

 

Asshole.

 

—

 

The next morning, I made myself waffles with the decrepit old iron in the kitchen. I was worried it would start a fire, when it sparked as I plugged it in, but a text to Mabel’s grandson, Chris, proved it was safe.

 

_It always does that! No worries. :)_

 

I ate them with the fresh strawberry jam Mabel had provided in the fridge, which was apparently locally made. I got dressed in a fresh pair of jeans after breakfast, and pulled my favorite hoodie over my head before heading out into the relatively chilly morning. Mabel had said that Chris was around my age—which for an elderly woman could mean anywhere from sixteen to forty, but still, I wondered if he had any clue about what a body could get into around these parts. I’d never been someone big on partying, but I was always a bonfire, drinking, chill music kind of girl. I was from New York, but I’d gone to school out in the boonies in West Virginia, so I’d had my fair share of woodland bonfires.

 

_Not to be awkward, but your grandmother said we were kind of close in age. What’s there to do around here?_

 

I was afraid to add any smileys or emojis—he’d probably think I was trying to flirt with him, even though I had no idea what he looked like. While I waited on Mystery Chris to reply, I started wandering aimlessly in the direction of the main road, where most of the businesses were located. Blumfield was essentially one long, main road, with several smaller branches and sections that were primarily residential. Everyone either worked in family businesses, or commuted to nearby towns. Sometimes even Anchorage, which was a two and a half hour drive only if you sped like a demon.

 

There was a little thrift store that was close to “downtown”—if you could even call it that. The New Yorker in me was haughty about things like that. Regardless, it caught my eye and I stepped inside, mentally reminding myself not to buy anything. I was riding the rails of my budget with this vacation anyway, and my wallet couldn’t afford to take many more blows. I was just window shopping.

 

 

“Can I help you?” A redhead behind the counter cocked her head at me. She looked like she belonged on a poster somewhere, with pale, porcelain skin and soft, wavy red hair. She was slim and petite, and I felt myself shrink in that way you do when people far more beautiful than you are in the room.

 

“Oh, no. I’m just looking.”

 

For her part, she didn’t look offended or put out at my admission that I most likely wasn’t going to be buying anything.

 

Dear God, I hoped she didn’t work on commission. The young woman didn’t watch me as I navigated the store, thumbing through old shirts that would make me look frumpy, and sparkly dresses that had weird padding in the shoulders. I decided to look at jewelry instead, scanning the rows of pendants.

 

“Oh.” I said it aloud, before my neck heated. I hadn’t meant to speak, but the necklace had caught me by surprise. It was a sand dollar, and it looked like it had been dipped in gold and then welded to a fine gold chain. It was smooth and surprisingly warm to the touch.

 

“I’m not just saying this because I’m trying to sell you something, I honestly just think that would be such a pretty piece for you.”

 

I started, lurching forward a little. The saleswoman was suddenly right behind me, and I felt a flash of irritation. Was everyone living in Alaska a damn stealth fighter?

 

“Sorry,” she said, her light raspy voice sounding genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

“It’s okay,” I replied, smiling a little. “Thanks, but I’m on a budget.”

 

“Who’s not, these days?” She replied understandingly. “I’ve never seen you before. You the one renting Mabel’s place, up the road?”

 

“Wow. It’s really a cliche little town here; everyone knows everyone, and all their business.”

 

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I mean I’m also friends with her grandson. He told me she’d rented out to her first ever customer, she was so excited.”

 

Mabel _had_ been pretty enthusiastic about my being there. I grinned. “Oh yeah. Mystery Chris.” I blurted, before covering my mouth and sighing. The woman laughed. “I just don’t know anything about him, and I’ve never even seen a picture of the guy. Turns out he’s the one responding to the rental inquiries and answering all the phone calls. I just thought it was appropriate.”

 

She laughed again. “I think it’ll be funnier once you know him. I’m Scarlett.”

 

Of _course_ she had a sexy name.

 

“Gemma.”

 

“I hope it’s not weird, but a couple of us are going for drinks tonight, down at the _Salt_. You seem cool,” Scarlett replied definitively, appraising me. “Want to come?”

 

Well, Mystery Chris hadn’t responded yet, so I figured I was under no obligation to wait on him.

 

“Sure.” We chatted amiably for a few minutes, before we exchanged phone numbers, so that Scarlett could text me directions to the bar. I scrolled my contacts list, making sure her name had saved properly, and then stopped short.

 

Thomas’ name was in there, saved in my contacts list. I didn’t remember putting it in there myself, which meant that he’d done it somehow. I fumed, thinking of him going through my phone while I was otherwise occupied. I had to force myself to come back to the current conversation. “Okay, so I’ll text you before I leave.”

 

“Great!” Scarlett replied, her enthusiasm rubbing of on me a little. It was _nice_ to be around people who weren’t emotionally stunted. Granted, Thomas would never admit he was so emotionally constipated his head would explode. “See you tonight!”

 

—

 

I walked into a few more shops, and sat down in one of those quaint little coffee shops with a cruller and the largest size cup of coffee they had. Alaskan “fall” was still cold for me, and I was trying to warm up before heading back outside. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I checked it, pressing the home button with my thumb until it unlocked.

 

It was Mystery Chris.

 

_Small towns are a plague on the youth, lol. Sorry, I was at work. There’s Salt, a bar just off the fishing docks, that’s usually pretty popular. Most people go spend the weekend in Anchorage, if they’re looking to party._

 

I sipped my coffee before putting it down on the table to reply.

 

_No problem. And yeah, someone else told me about Salt, I’m thinking about checking it out. I’m not a partier, so that will probably be more than enough for me. Thanks!_

 

 _Glad I could offer a good second opinion. Is the house okay? Everything working?_ He asked, and I smiled lightly—it was perfect. It was about as big as my apartment at home, which wasn’t very large either. I wondered how long it would take me to drive up here—if I borrowed my mom’s car, of course. Mae would love it up here. I sniffled, thinking about my big fur baby, probably laying on the couch being fedtoo many treats by my well meaning mother.

 

 _Everything’s good, thanks for asking!_ I was out of things to say, and my head was buzzing pleasantly with the coffee. I stuck my phone back in my back pocket and drained my coffee cup before tossing it out. I walked around some more, before tearing off a piece of my donut, and popping it into my mouth. I tried not to make myself feel guilty about the junk—I was healthy, if round, and I ate well. It was okay to indulge occasionally.

 

When I finally made my way back to my little cabin in the late afternoon, I was ready for lunch. Mabel had said to help myself to anything in the fridge, but I wasn’t comfortable raiding it for every meal. I grabbed my car keys, and decided to head to the grocery store, get my own supplies. The thing about little places like this was that everything was five minutes from everything—so naturally I drove slowly, learning my way.

 

The parking lot wasn’t even half full, and I was glad. I didn’t feel like fighting my way through the store. I grabbed a cart and wandered, aimlessly tossing things I needed into my cart. Crackers, flour, sugar. I wasn’t a professional by any means, but I was a damn good cook, and I was selective about where I was willing to spend money on food. My ex had joked it made me a difficult date, but he was probably right.

 

I paid for my purchases when I was finished, before heading outside. Movement by the entrance of the lot caught my eye as I pushed the cart over to my car, and my head snapped up. Just as I looked, a large, black hummer drove by, stopping at the intersection on the street outside. I didn’t need to seethe license plate to know who it was.

 

_Thomas._

 

My heart sped up and I cursed myself, turning to toss my bags in the back seat. _Stop that!_ I thought desperately, slamming my door as I got into the car, and slapped my palm against my chest. “Calm the fuck down!” I said, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyelids. “It’s done.”

 

I looked up again, and the car was gone, through the green light. I was glad at least that he wasn’t coming in here—then he would definitely see me, and he would definitely let _me_ know he saw me. I composed myself before heading back to the house, not taking the time to drive leisurely.

 

Once inside, I busied myself putting things away, and toasting a bagel for lunch. I’d _had_ to buy every single seafood item I wanted; they were cheaper here, and fresher. I couldn’t help it. At the checkout lane, I’d sternly promised myself to be good, and not spend too much more on things I didn’t need. I had the rest of the month to get through.

 

I unpackaged my smoked salmon, and laid it across the bagel, chewing thoughtfully. Bagels were better at home, but lox was better here.

 

An unhappy conundrum. I walked out to the back yard, and sat heavily in one of the chairs, looking out at the field that stretched beyond the property, and then the woods beyond that. _I should ask Mystery Chris if there’s any easy trails around here._ I wasn’t athletic at all, but I _did_ enjoy being in and around nature. As I got older, city life interested me less and less. I didn’t go out, I didn’t party, and I spent way too much time snapping pictures of my dog.

 

When I was finished eating, I went inside to check my email and read. I hadn’t been able to sit down with a good book—well, a good book on my kindle—in a long while. Thomas had had me too… distracted to do much reading. Half of what I’d read I had to go over again and again, because either thoughts of those big, rough hands were enough to make my mind wander or he simply snuck up behind me, pouncing, and thoroughly capturing my attention, making my reading seem obsolete and unimportant. 

 

I wrapped myself in a blanket, and curled up on the couch, satisfied that I was starting my vacation at last.

 

—

 

That night, I picked through my suitcase, suddenly unhappy with all the clothes I’d brought. I didn’t want to overdress, but I wanted to look cute, and without the full support of my entire wardrobe, I wasn’t happy. Knowing me, though, I would have been unsatisfied no matter what.

 

Every nice thing I’d brought was laid out on the bed. I’d brought a single party outfit, a dress I _definitely_ wasn’t going to wear tonight. I’d left my hair down after I washed it, working gel through it to keep my curls defined and even. Stretched, it was down my back, but now, it was just past my shoulders. I wasn’t going to do anything to it. Sighing, I selected a lacy black camisole, it was a crop top, but with high waisted jeans, I was confident I’d look okay. My phone buzzed.

 

_Okay, so you’re going to head down past the grocery, all the way to the dock. Turn left, and you’ll see Salt. Don’t worry about the outside._

 

 _What, are there dead bodies draped across the walls or something?_ I joked, tossing my phone back onto the bed.

 

I dressed and applied a little makeup—I’d been trying to go lighter lately, not wear as much, before grabbing my coat and my scarf. It was evening now, and the temperature was going to drop drastically. My car rumbled to life, as I eyed the dash suspiciously. I still didn’t trust this old car, even though it hadn’t given me any more problems after it’s repair.

 

I followed Scarlett’s directions exactly, and ended up in a dingy looking parking lot. The sign above the door was simple and the walls outside were absolutely _covered_ in graffiti. No wonder she’d warned me. I guessed even teenagers _here_ managed to find trouble.

 

I strode inside, and was stopped at the door by a big, burly bearded man. He was at least thrice my size, and he was huge in every sense of the word—muscular, with a big belly and huge arms. He could have bench pressed my Honda, easily.

 

“ID, sweetheart.”

 

I fished around in my purse for my wallet, and opened it, showing him my license. “Come on in.” I moved past him, unbuttoning my jacket. I kept my purse slung across my shoulder, but I hung my coat on the rack by the door. It was much warmer inside, and I was pleased that I hadn’t overdressed. The bar was long, and located in the center of the room, with smaller tables scattered throughout.

 

“Gemma!” I turned at the sound of my name, to see Scarlett on the far side of the bar, waving. There were other people with her and I gulped, waving back, suddenly nervous. I was no introvert, but I _was_ alone in an entirely new place. I headed over, and she hugged me, surprising me. “Hey! You made it. You have a drink yet?” She questioned, and I shook my head. “Go order, first one’s on us.” They were all milling around a little table close to the bar, so close in face, that I only had to turn around to order.

 

“I won’t argue with you on that,” I said, laughing. “Shit.” I leaned across the bar, waving to get the bartender’s attention, and ordered my rum and coke, before turning back to Scarlett and her friends. “This is Rob, Allie, Jamie, and Mystery Chris.” She gestured around the table, before laughing and pointing at an absolutely _huge_ blonde with a slight shadow of stubble on his chin. Everyone burst out laughing, including me. His hair was pulled back into a little ponytail, and his gray t-shirt was stretched enticingly across his muscular frame.

 

_Mabel’s a liar._

 

He was handsome in a rugged, thick way, with huge muscled arms I could easily picture myself squeezing. “ _You’re_ Mystery Chris?” He chuckled, a deep, hearty sound that was infectious, and I found myself smiling too, it was infectious.

 

“Why do you call me that?” he asked, taking a swig of his beer. Unilke everyone else, he’d ordered draft, and set the mug back down on the table. It fit him, weirdly enough.

 

“Mostly because I’ve only ever texted you, and didn’t know your last name,” I said a little defensively, accepting my drink from the bartender. “Honestly, I think it’s a pretty flattering nickname.” I grinned.

 

“That’s pretty good. I like it. I think I’ll change my name to Mystery Chris on Facebook.” He elbowed Rob, and I snorted, and sipped my drink. I was new, so the conversation primarily centered on me—where I was from, what I did, the basics.

 

“How long are you here for?” asked Jamie, a petite brunette about my height. “Scarlett said you were renting Mabel’s place.”

 

“Oh, about three and a half more weeks. I had to take a month off of work,” I said bitterly, though I wasn’t particularly upset about it anymore.

 

“What? Was it like, medical?” Scarlett asked, sipping her beer. I leaned back against the bar, shaking my head.

 

“No, nothing like that. I had too much vacation time and that makes it look like they’re overworking me. Which I kind of guess they were, because I was about to go fucking postal in there,” I joked, the alcohol loosening my tongue. “So my boss ‘suggested’”—I used finger quotes for emphasis—“I use all my accumulated time. I think human resources was on his ass about it.” I was probably right; Heather from HR was a domineering woman. An ex lawyer for a human rights organization, she was a stickler for following the rules. She’d probably noticed that I hadn’t taken a vacation in two years, and had gone from zero to sixty. I felt a little bad about being upset with Mr. Renner now—his hands had most likely been tied.

 

Chris drained his mug before placing it on the counter behind us and motioning to the bartender for another one. _Salt_ was full of people—it was probably more people than I’d ever seen in one place here since arriving. The murmur of the crowd was comforting, and I ordered another drink.

 

“So what happened, you got stuck in the storm, you said?” Chris asked, and everyone’s attention turned back to me.

 

My cheeks flushed hotly. “Oh. Yeah. My stupid car broke down on my way into town, just before the storm blew in. My phone was dead too, so I just sat there until someone picked me up.” I figured that if Mabel knew I’d spent six days with Thomas, the entire town would too, and soon. “A guy who lives just outside of town. Thomas Harrison?” Their eyes all widened, and Rob sputtered, choking on his drink.

 

“Thomas Harrison? He _helped_ you?” He sputtered, his blue eyes wide. I was taken aback. Thomas was a dick, sure. Of monumental proportions, in my own opinion. But, despite what he said, I doubted he’d have left me out there to die—even if we never ended up having sex. I nodded, shrugging.

 

“Um. Yeah. He let me use is phone, and then he let me stay over when we got snowed in. I kept my face casually neutral. I didn’t want them thinking anything had happened between Tom and I. I knew how people could talk, and I was going to be in this community for a long time. It wouldn’t be pleasant if everyone was talking about me like I was the queen of slut island.

 

“You just… _slept_?” Scarlett’s pouty red lips were perched in a sly smile, and I felt the back of my neck go hot. I coughed into my drink, and everyone laughed.

 

“Y-yes!” I gasped, doing my best to look offended. “I did. Just sleep.”

 

“Okay, okay, just asking,” She placated, holding her hands up apologetically. “I’m surprised you even saw him to be honest,” Scarlett added, taking another swig of her drink. I raised an eyebrow, and mirrored her.

 

“Really? Why?”

 

“He’s like a hermit up there, locked in that cabin.”

 

I wondered what Thomas’ history was here. He’d made it seem like he wasn’t lonely, like he came down to town all the time, but clearly, that wasn’t true.

 

 

“He didn’t tell me much,” I said, nodding. “He said he’s been up there for ten years?”

 

 

“Oh yeah. We all knew each other when we were little shits,” Allie said, dropping her two cents into the bucket. I felt my other eyebrow rising up my face to join it’s twin.

 

“You all know each other?” I felt stupid for asking—he _had_ said he knew most of the people in town. But somehow I hadn’t thought that the relationships would be so intimate, or longstanding—even if they weren’t exactly pleasant.

 

“Oh yeah.” Chris said, his voice a little hard. “We go way back.” I wasn’t exactly comfortable asking more—Thomas hadn’t told me much about himself, just tantalizing tidbits that I couldn’t do anything with, or piece together in any meaningful way. Rob looked around, and then nodded at me. He appeared to be the most dramatic of the group, with everyone constantly trying to reign him in.

 

“He moved here alone,” Rob said, leaning over the table conspiratorially. “He was this gangly little kid who had enough money to bankroll the town, but he just fixed up that old cabin and stayed up there.” Allie slapped him on the shoulder, and shoved him back into his seat.

 

“You’re a worse gossip than Chris’ grandmother.” She chided, and he shrugged.

 

“You can only talk about salmon season or the new Shoney’s so many times before you get bored, All’s.”

 

I let the conversation drift away from me. It was nice to be out, and I was glad I’d come. Two drinks turned to three, and three turned gradually to four and we all swayed happily, chatting about everything and nothing. I learned that Scarlett was trying to move to the city to be with her long distance boyfriend, that Chris was in marketing, and lived between Blumfield and Anchorage to take care of Mabel. Allie was an aspiring actress, and Rob was a mechanic.

 

I was having _fun._

 

And then my phone rang.

 

I was surprised to see it was Tom, and spitefully ignored it. I wasn’t up for a late night bootycall—I knew that’s what he wanted. I wondered how many girls in town had his number in their phones, too. Angrily, I realized I felt jealous, but also a little thrilled. Even if there were others—and with a… virile man like Tom, there had to be—he was still calling _me._

 

My phone vibrated again and again against my hip, until finally I excused myself to stand just outside the door. I was glad I’d worn cute sneakers instead of the pumps I’d been eyeing. I was tipsy, enough so that I leaned against the building when I answered the phone. My intention was to tell him off, even the best laid plans can go to shit. As soon as the line clicked through, Thomas spoke first.

 

“Where are you?” He sounded eerily calm, like when he’d spoken to me from outside after I locked him out.

 

“What’s it matter?” I retorted. Why was he calling me? And why did he _care_ where I was? “Why do you even _need_ to know?”

 

“I came by the house. Your car’s not here. _Where are you, Gemma?_ ” Thomas growled. He didn’t answer my question, but he expected me to answer his. I didn’t want to. The alcohol was making me abrasive and defiant, and besides, Thomas was a fuck—I didn’t owe him anything. I could just hang up the phone and ignore him, just deny him until he lost interest.

 

But I didn’t.

 

“My car’s not there because I’m not home,” I said, my voice rising. “And why are you there?” I knew why, but I wanted him to say it. I wanted to know if he would be honest—but I also knew the answer would piss me off, and I wanted to be angry with him. Maybe if I got upset enough, I’d come to my senses and cut this guy off completely.

 

“I wanted to see you.”

 

“Replace ‘see’ with ‘fuck’ and then you’ll be telling the truth.” I quipped. Before he could respond, Chris emerged from the doorway, a goofy smile on his face.

 

“You okay, Gemma?” he asked quietly, but I knew Thomas heard him. I held the phone away from my ear, and nodded.

 

“Yeah, thanks Chris. I’m good here. I’ll come back in in a sec.” when I held the phone back to my ear, I could hear Thomas breathing heavily over the phone. I could hear a rumbling in the background, he was probably back in his car.

 

 _“Thanks Chris,”_ he mocked, and I rolled my eyes, two seconds away from hanging up the phone.

 

“Now you’re just being childish.” I could her him huff loudly at that, and the seconds ticked by in silence until he spoke again.

 

“Tell me where you are, little girl,” he said, the threat unspoken. “Gemma don’t make me have to find you.”

 

“Or what?” I said sarcastically. “What will you do, Thomas? Nothing.” I knew I was baiting _him_ now, and he didn’t like it. He was possessive, but it didn’t mean anything. He just wanted me because I was shiny and new, and he didn’t want anyone else playing with a toy he’d just gotten. I hung up the phone as he growled something through the receiver, and went back inside to where my new friends were still sitting. I ordered another drink, trying to put Thomas out of my mind.

 

He’d successfully ruined my mood—which, in all honestly had probably been intentional—and now I felt tense and mopey. A little while later, and with another round of drinks in us, people started bowing out one by one, citing work and other responsibilities the next day, until it was just Chris and I, waving goodbye to Scarlett, who winked at me, her cheeks red from drinking. “Maybe she shouldn’t drive alone,” I said, watching her sway. I had pretty high tolerance, and after captain buzzkill called my main line, I hadn’t been able to get my happy, tipsy mood back.

 

“He’s single you know,” Scarlett stage whispered, and Chris pushed her gently towards the door, but she stumbled. “I’m good!” Scarlett protested, before leaning heavily on the bar. I laughed in spite of everything, and she grinned back at me.

 

“Someone’s definitely going to have to take you home,” I chided, and she giggled.

 

“And by someone you mean me,” Chris groused good naturally, and I grinned, nodding.

 

“Well I don’t know where she lives.” I retorted, patting my pockets and purse to make sure I had everything. Chris probably could have carried Scarlett with me on his back all alone, but I refused to let him maneuver her out of the bar by himself. I slung my coat across my other arm, not putting it on. It was chilly outside, sure, but the air felt good against my alcohol-heated skin.

 

My phone had remained eerily silent after I hung up on Thomas. I’d been expecting him to call back to curse at me some more—he was nothing if not persistent. But he hadn’t, and although I wanted to feel like I’d won, I knew he’d get me back somehow. He didn’t like being ignored. Chris and I walked Scarlett towards the door between the two of us. She’d started hitting the shots pretty fast after Allie had suggested them. I had to drive, and I knew I needed to taper off. Scarlett was a party girl, though, and had bravely gone shot for shot with Allie until they were both giggling madly, unable to lift another glass.

 

She hung between the two of us, her head lolling back as she looked at the stars when we exited the building. Chris directed me towards his car, which was one of the only ones—besides mine and Scarlett’s—still left in the lot. We leaned her against the car while he searched for his keys.

 

“You’re good to drive, right Gemma?” The way he said my name made me feel like a kid he was looking after.

 

“I’m good.” I waved him off. I’d driven in worse shape, and I didn’t feel impaired enough to worry. “I’m—” The words stuck in my throat. On the far side of the parking lot, right next to my car, was Thomas’ truck. He was standing, leaned against it, watching me. He’d probably seen me come out with Chris and Scarlett. His mouth was set into a hard line.

 

“What are you…oh.” Chris followed my gaze and gritted his teeth. “I’ll take you home, Gemma. Just ride with me.” He slid Scarlett into the passenger seat, and she fell out like a light, her head drooping as Chris fastened her seat belt.

 

I scoffed. “Why? He’s just being his normal asshole self.” I grumbled. Chris snorted.

 

“That’s true. Didn’t take you long to figure him out, did it?” he asked, and I laughed in spite of the dig at Thomas. When I thought about it though, I actually hadn’t figured Thomas out at all. I didn’t know anything about him—other than that I didn’t like him.

 

“He’s probably mad that I tracked mud on his rug or something,” I groused, shouldering my purse. Chris looked back and forth between the two of us then, and I had a sinking feeling he had at least an _inkling_ of what was going on.

 

“Be careful around him Gemma.” He warned, sliding into the driver’s seat. “He’s not a nice man.”

 

“No,” I agreed, looking back across the lot at Thomas, who was watching us talk, his arms crossed as he leaned against the car, exhaling smoke into the sky. “No, he’s not.”

 

Chris started his car but didn’t leave, and I headed towards my car. The closer I got, I could see Tom’s foot tapping impatiently as he tossed the cigarette down and crushed it with his heel. I walked around the other side of my car, trying unsuccessfully to avoid him. It was like he either didn’t know Chris was still watching or he didn’t care as he caught me up in two strides, leaning against the door so that I couldn’t open it.

 

“I wouldn’t have minded if you told me you were on a date, Gemma.”

 

I snorted. “Oh _please._ I’m sure you saw me carting Scarlett out totally drunk, so you know I wasn’t on a date you fucking pissbaby.” The curses dropped from my mouth unbidden, and saw his lip curl. I wasn’t sure if he hated when I cussed, or if it turned him on. “I just want to go home and go the hell to sleep.” I hadn’t been quite so vulgar with him before, and he growled low in his throat at me, like an animal. I took a step back.

 

“Do your parents know your mouth is so filthy?” He asked, his blue eyes bright and nostrils flaring. I pursed my lips and crossed my arms, before realizing that once again, due to his height, he was getting a pretty fantastic show. I dropped my hands to my hips.

 

“My mother curses worse than I do, actually.”

 

“So it runs in the family.” he drawled.

 

“What are you doing here?” I asked tiredly, glancing over my shoulder at Chris, who was still waiting for me to get into my car. He wouldn’t leave until I did. While I knew that Thomas was the king of threats and posturing, he wasn’t going to do anything questionable to me with someone else watching.

 

“I wanted you.”

 

Usually it was me who was off balance in our interactions, but tonight I was bold, the drinks in my belly giving me courage—along with my witness. Tom was the one off kilter now, though. I was grilling him, and he didn’t like it. I felt a little powerful— _I_ had brought this man here, he wanted _me._ As heady as that felt, I couldn’t ignore the sad little twang that reminded me that this was all physical. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. I knew he was watching me, so I ran a hand through my hair, before dragging my fingertips down the side of my jaw and across my bare shoulders. He licked his lips.

 

“You’re drunk. I’m taking you home.” His voice was authoritative, which made me even more brazenly defiant.

 

“You’re just trying to fuck me again.” I said petulantly. “Well it won’t work.”

 

“Look at you, Gemma,” he breathed, leaning down close to my face. Now the thought of Chris watching was embarrassing. If he didn’t know the nature of Thomas’ and my relationship, he certainly would now. “You’re all sauced up and dressed like a harlot.” He plucked at the strap of my camisole and briefly cupped my breast before dropping his hand. I wanted to be angry at his words—but instead I felt myself grow wet at the apex of my thighs and I clenched my teeth.

 

“I’m not dressed like a whore, you dick. I look nice.” I raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Chris certainly thought I looked _very_ nice.” That seemed to be the final straw for him, and he grabbed my wrist, just out of sight of Chris, who was still looking on, no doubt trying to decide whether or not he should step in. 

 

“Get in my fucking car, Gemma. Either you’re getting in, or I’m putting you in, but you’re getting in my car.” My heart was hammering in my chest, despite me telling it not to. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, but I also wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

 

“Fine. Let go of my wrist you fucking stalker.”

 

Tom released me, and watched with no small measure of satisfaction on his face as I climbed up into the passenger seat of his car. He slammed the door behind me, and slowly walked around to the other side. I was surprised he didn’t drop his pants and piss on me, with how territorial he was being.

 

He got in slowly, and flexed his fingers against the steering wheel before looking at me out of the side of his eye. He didn’t say anything though, he merely leaned back and took a deep breath.

 

I could see Chris pulling away, and cold dread settled in my stomach.

 

Thomas started the car and turned out into the street. He didn’t need directions, he knew where he was going. _Someone’s going to have to drop me off at my car tomorrow_ , I thought irritatedly as we pulled up outside my rental. “Thanks for the ride,” I said sarcastically, moving to get out of the truck. The lock clicked as soon as I touched the door handle, and I jiggled it. “Child locks. Really?”

 

“You’re going to go inside, change out of this whore lace, and put on something nice for daddy. Understand?” His voice was hard, and though I was still feeling the liquid courage from earlier, I was still inebriated enough to be honest with myself. I was going to let him fuck me, and I was going to enjoy it. The question was whether or not I wanted to make it easy, or hard.

 

I’d never been one to take the easy way out.

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

_“No.”_

 

The atmosphere in the car changed immediately, and before I knew it Thomas was leaning over the middle console, his hand gripping my thigh hard enough to bruise. Despite my discomfort, heat still blossomed in my stomach, and I found myself panting.

 

“Do it. Now.”

 

I whimpered miserably as he unlocked the door, and scurried off to do exactly what he said. I never thought of myself as kinky or wild—a light slap during sex, a little brief dirty talk, those were all things I was used to. I never thought I was one of _those_ women. The ones who got wet when they got treated like _this._

 

 _Guess I’m learning all_ **_kinds_ ** _of things on this trip._

 

As I changed in the bedroom, I could hear Thomas enter, and I hurried to finish.

 

“Much better.” He praised, and I hated myself for wanting to smile winningly at him. He fingered my discarded top—with which I hadn’t been able to wear a bra. “Maybe I’ll have you wear it again. Just for me.” He said lowly, and I felt myself clench. Thomas discarded his jacket, draping it over one of the posts of my bed as he approached me. “Little girls aren’t supposed to be out late at night,” He drawled, tracing one of my nipples through the pale purple teddy I was wearing. “There are big bad men out there.”

 

“Like you,” I breathed, and he looked up from his ministrations and grinned wickedly.

 

“Exactly like me.”

 

Thomas then sat down on the bed, and patted his lap. I went to sit, but he grabbed my arms, pulling me down with my belly across his thighs. I squirmed, and his hands stilled my hips.

 

“Don’t make it worse, Gemma.”

 

I dropped my hands with a sigh of resignation. Underneath my little silk teddy, I had on a cheeky, lacy thong that I knew he’d like. He tugged the edge of my shirt up, and groaned softly, before caressing the firm globes of my ass with nothing less than reverence. “Do you have any idea how many men wanted to fuck you tonight?”

 

His words were meant to catch me off guard, and it worked. “Wha—”

 

His hand cracked against my skin, and I cried out. “Quiet, Gemma. You want all the neighbors to hear you getting punished for being a bad girl?”

 

“N-no,” I blubbered, tears welling in my eyes. He rubbed my bottom soothingly.

 

“No..?”

 

“No daddy!” I gasped, hoping it wouldn’t add to my sentence. He reared back and popped me again, harder this time. I gasped, and dug my teeth into my lip to keep from screaming. “Those delicious little titties right on display, and no fucking bra,” he admonished, his fingers skating below my ass to dip below my panties into my surprisingly wet pussy. “My, my.”

 

He slapped my ass again, and I choked on my own saliva, sobbing. “You’re crying here, too,” he taunted, holding his glistening fingers in front of my face. “You’re such a sub, Gemma.”

 

I ducked my head in shame.

 

“You don’t have to rub it in.” I said in a small voice, sniffling, and he slapped my ass lightly, far more gently than he’d been doing. “Daddy,” I added belatedly, wincing. Thomas seemed content with massaging the sore spots on my butt instead of beating it raw, and I sighed, relaxing against his legs. He nudged my thighs open with his hand, running his fingers along the seam of my sopping underwear. Everything was dead silent, and all I could hear was his breathing. He dipped a single finger into me, and I groaned. It did nothing to relieve the ache between my thighs—if anything, it made me ache for him worse.

 

_You don’t like me, Gemma._

 

It was true, I didn’t like him. Thomas was entitled and possessive, with at least twenty other qualities that I didn’t care for—but something kept me hooked. A second finger joined his first in my throbbing cunt, and I moaned. He withdrew both fingers suddenly, and prompted me to stand.

 

“Stay here.” He cupped my pussy, rubbing two fingers against the panties I would be ruining if Thomas didn’t let me take them off soon. “And don’t move.” I watched him exit the room, my hands clasped behind my back. I could hear him moving through the house and out the front door. My curiosity almost got the best of me, but my ass was still sore and throbbing, and I didn’t want to risk another punishment. The minutes ticked by, and as I was wondering if his intention was to leave me standing here all night—which I definitely wasn’t doing, no matter how good the sex was—I heard the door open again.

 

He walked with slow, leisurely steps. “Good girl,” he purred, moving towards me, a scrap of colorful cloth wrapped around his hand. I kept my hands dutifully clasped behind my back, even as he traced the outline of my breast with a surprisingly gentle finger. “You’re a bossy, loud bitch. You hate how much you love it when I take control of you.” He cupped my breast and squeezed. “Arms up.”

 

I hated how fast I obeyed. He tugged my nightshirt off, and then tied the silky cloth in his hands went around my wrists, knotting it tightly.

 

“Wait I—” I swallowed noisily as he looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “I’ve never done this before.” My voice came out in a rushed, embarrassing whine, and I waited for him to say something nasty.

 

“I know.” His tone was slightly amused, but not mocking. “Don’t worry, Gemma. I’ll take care of you.” His lips moved against the shell of my ear, and I found myself nodding. My belly tightened at his words.

 

_I’ll take care of you._

 

“Good. Get on the bed, little girl.” He tugged the scarf, and I almost pitched forward, and crawled onto the bed. Thomas wrapped the loose end around a piece of the headboard. I fidgeted as he stripped, closing my thighs in an attempt to hide my embarrassingly wet pussy from him. Thomas grunted in disapproval. “Don’t.” He said, a warning clear in his voice. “I want to see.” He slapped sharply at my thigh and I squealed.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Let daddy see,” He crooned, leaning down to place a soothing kiss against my thigh where he’d popped it. I slid my thighs open, shuddering as I watched Tom lick his lips appreciatively, looking down at my glistening folds. “So pretty…”

 

He plucked my clit gently, and I gasped, wrenching against my bonds. Thomas leaned over me, settling his chest against mine, his hand still sunk into my folds. I was writhing against him, mumbling. I pressed my lips to his, catching him by surprise. He kissed me back, smirking against my mouth as I whimpered. “Such a pretty mouth too, when you’re not spewing obscenities.”

 

As if on cue, I cursed as his fingers circled my clit again. “Fuck!”

 

I could feel his cock throb against me, and I almost grinned. “You—ah!—like it when I’m spewing obscenities.” Tom ground his cock into my belly. I could feel him grinning against my cheek, his teeth nibbling on the lobe of my ear. I groaned loudly. He moved away from me, his eyes bright as he tore at his clothes before hurriedly lining up his cock with my pussy. He shoved my panties aside without removing them and sunk in slowly, a ragged breath tearing itself from his throat.

 

“I saw Chris staring at your ass when you walked away, Gemma.” he growled, his words fanning the fire in my belly. I keened high in my throat, the sound coming unbidden. I tugged at the scarf, wanting to free my hands. I wanted to touch him, leave marks like the ones I knew would be around my wrist in the morning. His thick cock forced in and out of me, leaving me gasping, pleading, although even I wasn’t sure what I was begging for.

 

“I bet he’s touching himself right now, imagining what it feels like inside this hot,” he pushed up against my cervix and I choked, a strangled moan tearing its way out of my throat. “Tight.” a hand sneaked up to tug gently on one of my nipple piercings, and I gasped again. “Cunt.”

 

I writhed against him. “Jealous?” I panted, and he rotated his hips, angling his cock inside me. Stars exploded behind my eyes and I sobbed, pushing my hips up to meet his as he pounded into me. Thomas gripped my chin with one hand and turned my face towards his, his eyes wild. His lips burned against mine and I opened my mouth immediately, his tongue sweeping across mine. Thomas ignored my pointed barb in favor of working me into a frenzy, as if he were trying to answer me with his body instead of his mouth.

 

Thomas leaned back, looming over me. He dragged me towards him, pushing his knees under my ass as he thrust into me, and I cried out. He dug even deeper than before, and I had nothing, no words, no sounds, my mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure.

 

“Is that all it takes to get you to shut your fucking mouth, Gemma?” he taunted, his handsome mouth set in a wicked grin. “I’d have fucked you like this sooner.” I could hear my own ragged breathing, interspersed with choking moans, and I tugged absently on the scarf around my wrists. “You’re close, aren’t you baby girl?” he asked, one of his hands leaving my ample hips to play, again, with my breasts. I whined, nodding.

 

“Please, daddy,” I panted, crying out as he growled, grinding his cock deeper into my already achingly full pussy. “Please, please…”

 

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his dick pulsing inside me. “Come for me, Gemma. Squeeze me,” He commanded, and I couldn’t help but obey, my hips arching up off the bed and my cunt clamping down against the rigid length of him.

 

“Thomas—!”

 

He came hard at the sound of his name from my lips, stiffening as he released with a shout. Thomas dropped to his forearms, his body caged around me as he shuddered, holding my hips tightly to his. I felt boneless, I couldn’t protest as he collapsed beside me, dragging me with him, my breasts pressed against his chest. He was still inside me, and I couldn’t work my jaw to tell him to fuck off and pull out, so we fell asleep like that, our limbs tangled together, and Thomas’ softening cock inside my still throbbing center.

 

With the lights on.

 

—

 

I woke up before he did—which was nothing short of a miracle, considering I’d drunk the night before. I took the opportunity to study his face.

 

_He really is one handsome motherfucker._

 

His lips were slightly parted, his breathing slow and even. HIs dark lashes rested against his cheeks, and I traced a finger absently along the stubble on his chin. My gaze traveled downward, to his tattoo. I’d spent more than enough time staring at it—it was beautiful, but bold, the sharp lines of the snake almost scary in their intensity. It fit him.

 

I gingerly climbed out of bed after a few moments more of allowing myself to stare at him. He was certainly the best looking guy I’d ever slept with.

 

I donned my robe and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee, rubbing my eyes absently. I groaned quietly upon seeing the mascara smeared across my hand. I’d have to wash my face before Thomas woke up.

 

He’d definitely make fun of me for having raccoon eyes.

 

After starting the coffee machine—which looked like it was straight out of the seventies—I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I peeked into the bedroom, but Thomas wasn’t there. I started, wondering when he’d gotten out of bed. I peeked through the kitchen window, but his car was still parked outside. My face heated. I wondered how many neighbors knew he was here. It wasn’t like there was another house pressed right up against this one, but I wondered how loud I’d been anyway, and if people had heard. The patio door was open, and I rolled my eyes. It figured he’d go outside for a wake-n-bake.

 

My theory had been correct. Thomas was seated at the furniture outside, rolling a joint.

 

“Isn’t it early for that?” I asked, jerking my head towards his activities. He looked up at me, sleepiness still evident on his face.

 

“It’s 11am,” He said flatly, and I blushed. We’d been up _way_ later than I thought. The neighbors had _definitely_ seen Thomas’ car parked outside. I was probably being paranoid, it was likely that no one was paying attention to that. “Coffee?” He asked gruffly, and I nodded.

 

“Inside.”

 

Thomas twisted off the end of the joint and handed it to me, before tossing me his lighter, too.

 

“Start that.”

 

I almost giggled.

 

He returned a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee. He took his black—I knew that from my stay with him. Mine had tons of milk, but no sugar. Just the way I liked it. I didn’t comment on his memory of my preferences, but I couldn’t help the small smile as I took the mug from him.

 

“You and Mabel go way back too?” I asked as he sat down. I saw him glance at the joint smoldering in my hand. He shrugged and sat, facing the woods behind the house. I exhaled a puff of smoke, and handed it off to him. He shook his head, and I raised my eyebrow. He’d rolled it just for me?

 

It was probably the most touching thing he’d ever done, to be honest.

 

“I have to drive,” he said gruffly, and I swallowed my smart-alec retort. Tom probably smoked and drove all the time—but he didn’t want me to know he was being affectionate. It was probably better that I say nothing anyway; this couldn’t go anywhere. We didn’t belong anywhere _near_ each other, and it was a miracle straight from heaven that we hadn’t murdered one another. Thomas wasn’t my type, and I had a feeling I wasn’t quite his either, but the attraction between us was raw and needy, and neither of us could seem to help but feed it.

 

I stubbed it out in the ash tray to save for later, and took another sip of my coffee. “Why did you move here?”

 

“You ask a lot of questions, little girl,” he said, taking a drink from his own mug. “You know it’s rude to pry.” He took a cigarette out of the carton in his jacket pocket and stuffed it between his lips. I rolled my eyes. He had some _nerve_ talking about rudeness.

 

“Well excuse the fuck out of me,” I muttered. “I was just asking.”

 

“And I answered.”

 

I got the message: I wasn’t supposed to pry.

 

But my reporter’s brain was not getting the message. I swallowed more coffee to stop myself from bothering him until he exploded, and Thomas stood, stretching. “I’ve got business to attend to.”

 

I snorted. “Oh, that sounds _very_ official.”

 

“Stay home tonight, Gemma.” he said sternly. “I don’t want to have to pick you up drunk _again_.” The way he said it made it sound like he’d done it many times before. I winced all the same. I probably _shouldn’t_ have driven last night, so it _had_ been fortunate he’d come along, as Chris wasn’t pushing the issue.

 

“I’m not a child.”

 

“I’m well aware,” he said lasciviously, and I felt my chest tighten. “If I’m back from Anchorage in time, I’ll stop by.”

 

It wasn’t a request—he was _telling_ me what was going to happen. I didn’t bother asking what he was going to the city for, because Thomas wouldn’t have told me anyway. I finished my coffee and stood to walk him to the door. He opened it, but didn’t cross the threshold, instead turning to look down at me.

 

“Be good, Gemma.”

 

I was really starting to get sick of him saying that.

 

“When am I not?”

 

He raised an eyebrow instead of answering, and reached out to wrap a kinky strand of my hair around his finger before sighing and walking towards his car.

 

I closed the door after him, my heart hammering in my chest for reasons I didn’t understand and didn’t want to investigate. Later that afternoon, as I dozed on the couch with my kindle resting on my chest, my phone buzzed. I expected it to be Thomas, checking up on me—but it wasn’t.

 

It was Chris.

 

_Bonfire. Your place. Scarlett’s bringing jello shots._

 

I grinned. At least I didn’t have to defy Thomas to have a little fun—though I would have gladly done it anyway.

 

Besides, it was an opportunity to pick Chris’ brain—see what he knew, what he was willing to talk about.

 

I wanted to know more about Thomas Harrison.

 

 

 

 

 

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So??? Questions? Comments? Concerns? Leave 'em below! Does Gemma look like how you guys pictured her? Obviously I imagine her chubbier, but hey, you work with what you can get, and that's damn close! As always, thanks so much for reading! Please review!!


	4. Go Awry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter! Just a warning: I will be updating the tags as I go, to add things I forgot to warn for, so some tags may be replaced. Also, is anyone interested in a playlist for Cold? I have one that I generally listen to while I'm writing and I find it really helps me get into the character motivations. I can post the list at the end of the next chapter or something.

 

 

“So where can I put these?” Chris asked, gesturing to the fold out chairs he’d brought with him, and that were now cluttering the doorway.

 

“Out back, where else?” I said, and he rolled his eyes at me before picking them up and hoisting them through the living room onto the patio. Thomas’ weird departure had me on edge, and I was itching to know more about him. I followed Mystery Chris and rubbed the back of my neck, my face apologetic.

 

“Sorry for snapping.”

 

“I’d be grumpy if I had to spend the night with his royal highness too,” he quipped, and I dropped my head, my cheeks burning. I’d suspected he’d known, but I _hadn’t_ expected him to just blurt it out. It wasn’t to be spiteful, I could tell that. He was just stating a fact, as easily as he’d note that it was snowing. “Where do you want to set up the pit? Further out, or as close to the house as possible?”

 

“Where’s better? You’ve probably done this loads of times.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, rubbing his hands together from the cold. “Back when my grandfather was alive, we used to do this all the time.”

 

“I’m sorry,” I sad, and he smiled at me, a little sad. Maybe Mystery Chris wasn’t such a mystery after all. He seemed to wear everything right out on his sleeve. That’s probably why everyone found it so funny that I called him that—he was simpler to figure out that the solution of 2+2.

 

Maybe I should start calling him “4” instead.

 

“It’s okay. It was a while ago. I mean, it sucks,” he rambled, and I saw his cheeks redden a little.

 

Was Chris embarrassed?

 

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Scarlett was on the way with Allie, and Rob was coming with a mystery date. All of this was relayed in one long voice note, because Scarlett was driving and didn’t want to use her hands. I’d have rather’d she not touched the phone at all, but I wasn’t in any position to judge, since I’d almost driven home drunk the night before.

 

I wanted to ask him what he knew before everyone else got there—he’d seemed to have the biggest bone to pick with Tom out of everyone, and I wanted to know why.

 

“Okay, so forgive me for being really goddamn nosy, but what’s up with Thomas Harrison?”

 

Chris looked up from the chair he was positioning. “What do you mean?”

 

“What’s his deal? Why’s he here? What’s he doing?”

 

Chris locked eyes with me, his expression unreadable. “Tom’s.. well when we were in high school, I was in senior year with Allie, everyone else was a sophomore. That’s when he moved here. He just showed up one day, walking through town with this ratty backpack, looking wild, like he’d walked all the way from town. Someone tried to report him as a runaway, but he was 19, or at least, that’s what his ID said. If it was a fake one, it must have been good,” Chris recounted, leaning over the back of the chair to face me.

 

“I don’t know anything about before he came here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

I must have looked disappointed, for him to say that. “No, I’m just… curious. He’s really secretive.”

 

“Yeah. He was when we were kids too. Only he was angrier.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Chris didn’t respond to any more of my questions with valuable information, and I suspected it was something personal he didn’t want to share, some kind of involvement in Thomas’ past that he either didn’t want to acknowledge, or didn’t want to confess to. Either way, my fingers itched like they did when I’d stumbled onto something at work, and I wasn’t willing to give up the chase easily, but I could _pretend_ to let it go, long enough for Chris to let his guard down. Or long enough for someone else to tell me whatever it was that both he and Thomas didn’t want me to know.

 

Scarlett arrived shortly after, banging on the door with what sounded like a metal tray. “Let me in, I’m holding jello!” I opened the door for her and she burst inside, carrying two tiered containers full of wiggling shots. Behind her on the walkway was a cooler with wine and beer in it.

 

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?” I helped her set up the little patio table with alcohol, and we watched as Chris set up the bonfire, dragging over the logs stacked over on the far side of the house. The others arrived shortly after, each bringing something for the party—if six people could even be called a party.

 

“Chris’ grandpa used to let us drink at bonfires. Just like, one beer, but we always snuck more,” Allie said, looking at the dim yard wistfully, as though she were remembering it with different eyes.“Whenever I’m here I can’t believe he’s gone.”

 

“Sounds like he made a real impact,” I said, watching Chris drop a match into the pile of kindling, blowing on it gently to help it catch. “What about his parents?” I asked, jutting my chin out in Chris’ direction. My problem was that I was nosy. It was what made me such a good writer—I was good at asking the right questions.

 

“Died when he was really little.” she said, winding a lock of blonde hair around her finger. “So his grandparents raised him. Joel was the sweetest old guy you could ever imagine. It wasn’t like it was… unexpected, you know? When he went. I mean, it’s kind of a miracle Mabel is still around, you know?” I nodded. Chris was in his thirties now, or a year shy, if he was a year younger than Thomas. It _was_ a miracle his grandmother was still living. Mabel was a spry old thing.

 

Chris finally got the fire going strong, and raised his fist into the air, triumphant, looking strangely like a warrior of old. He really was attractive, in a rugged, romantic kind of way. It was too bad my panties were all in a bunch over Thomas, who I couldn’t seem to get a clear picture on, one way or the other.

 

“I demand marshmallows,” Chris replied, tossing himself into one of the foldout chairs. I grabbed a stick and dug the snack bag out of the cooler Rob had brought. He and his “date” were currently snuggled up on a single chair in front of the fire, giggling. I had the sneaking suspicion they’d smoked, but I didn’t want to call him out in front of everyone.

 

Scarlett took a marshmallow too, and speared it. “I hear I passed out,” she said casually, and I laughed, recalling lugging her to the car as she mumbled incoherently. I nodded, grinning.

 

“Big time.”

 

“Well, at least it was only in the car and not, you know, on the bar like last time.” Scarlett replied, shrugging a little. Scarlett would have fit right in in New York, I thought, looking at her. She was gorgeous, and she’d easily find work while she pursued her designing. I made a note to invite her out to the city when I left.

 

“Scarlett,” I asked, tipping one of her jello shots into my mouth before chewing on the alcohol infused cup, “do you ever drink and, you know, not get drunk?”

 

She scoffed. “What’s the point of that?” We both laughed.

 

I snagged a marshmallow for myself, and held it in the fire before turning to Scarlett. “You know Thomas too, right?” I asked, hoping the murmur of other conversations would keep other people from tuning in to what we were talking about.

 

“Yeah. I met him in junior year.” She said, popping the gooey, melted mush that her marshmallow had become into her mouth. “Why?”

 

“I just want to know more about him,” I admitted. “I feel antsy, like there’s a story I don’t know. Chris won’t tell me,” I said, gesturing toward the large man. He was currently locked in a discussion with Rob, whose date was still sitting in his lap, a cigarette lit in her hand.

 

“It figures he wouldn’t. They fucking hate each other.” Scarlett popped another marshmallow onto the end of her stick. “So when Tom moved here, Mabel kind of… latched onto him. She wanted to save him from himself, show him some love. You know, same reason people adopt dogs.”

 

“Thomas isn’t a lost puppy.”

 

“No, he wasn’t,” she agreed, knocking back half a beer in one swig. Scarlett was an impressive little thing, and I had the feeling that we would be great friends if given the opportunity. “Chris was dating this girl in our year, Sara Withers. She took one look at Tom and—“ Scarlett made a wet whooshing noise and spread her thighs, pushing her arms outward in a wave. A crude pantomime of panties flooding. I almost laughed—typical. It seemed Thomas had _always_ inspired strong feelings in women. “Chris and I were friends at the time, and when Sara left him… well he got really low. Tom… Well he was the kind of kid you could tell had been kicked around a lot, he felt like he had something to prove.” I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t get that vibe from Thomas at all—but that was probably because he’d buried it deep underneath assholish behavior.

 

“So, what? Chris hates Thomas because he dated his girlfriend?”

 

“Sara got pregnant. She was seventeen—we were out for summer, Tom didn’t know how old she was.”

 

My hand flew to my mouth. “Jesus.”

 

“Yeah. And then one day, she showed up back at school all weak and shaky and obviously _not_ pregnant. People asked questions, and her whole family up and left town. I heard they went to California, but Rob always says Maine, so I have no idea.” My mind reeled. Thomas had gotten a girl pregnant? And forced her to have an abortion, apparently. I narrowed my eyes, but then tried to remember I hadn’t heard his side of the story—though there was little to redeem him. Scarlett continued, as though she were determined to depart the facts to me as quickly and succinctly as she could.

 

“It’s weird, telling you. Everyone around here already knows,” she said, pulling her marshmallow out of the fire. It was old gossip to them—which was why she was able to impart it so casually. “Her family tried to sue for statutory, but the charges were dropped. And.. that’s it. That’s the whole sordid tale. Local news had a field day, of course. It was like, the biggest trial this town’s ever seen. The most exciting thing that happens here is salmon spawning, so you can imagine the amount of press it got.”

 

I certainly could.

 

I took a jello shot from the tray and downed it. _Thomas got a girl pregnant._

 

At least he had made sure I was safe before blowing a load in me, which was more that Sara apparently ever got. No matter how I tried to distract myself, my mind kept coming back around to the new knowledge. I couldn’t help thinking of it like a story—analyzing the facts in my head, looking for the bigger picture. A gangly 19 year old couldn’t beat those charges on his own. Thomas had to be connected to someone big somewhere.

 

It fell into place in my brain with minimal effort. The expensive furniture, the car, the brand name clothes, _the strong, likely expensive weed_. Thomas was well connected somewhere, and I wanted to know who.

 

And how.

 

I felt a little bad about prying into his past, but I couldn’t help but wonder about the mysterious man I’d fallen into bed with. He wouldn’t answer my questions, not in ways that meant anything or revealed anything he didn’t want me knowing. I was left to my own devices to learn about him, and I was a reporter—it was a recipe for disaster. It wasn’t like this was a story I hadn’t heard before—kids from my high school had gotten pregnant, I’d even gone with my younger sister to get an abortion when she didn’t want to tell my mother, for moral support. It was the fact that Thomas had clearly pressured a younger girl into the decision.

 

I wondered if he had pressured her into sex too. I shook my head. Thomas was a lot of things, but he _wasn’t_ a rapist. I never felt I couldn’t tell him no if I truly wanted to. The only way to resolve my worries was to talk to him—but that was the last thing I wanted to do. He would be angry with me for prying, and Thomas angry tended not to cooperate. I was in a conundrum. I knew more than he thought I did, and for once, I wished I didn’t. Despite my distraction, everyone else seemed to have a good time, and Rob eventually grew brave, and asked if he could smoke in the yard. Chris snorted, and gestured at his date--Julia? Judy?--who was on her third cigarette of the evening.

 

“If she can smoke those, you can smoke a joint.”

 

It was true—rural America had way more drugs than the city. Or maybe it was who I hung out with at home, which was mostly no one.

 

Rob lit up, and we passed it around. I puffed, wondering what Tom would say when I asked him about Sara. I wondered if he would tell me the truth.

 

Would I know the truth if I heard it?

 

It was after midnight by the time everyone had gone. Chris had stayed the latest, and was helping me tidy up a little before I crashed. He dumped sand on the fire while I tossed the beer cans and bottles into a garbage bag, which he said he would take out on his way home.

 

What a gentleman.

 

I helped him bring the folding chairs back to his ridiculously nice car, where he deftly shoved them into the large trunk. I was acutely reminded of how much I missed the subway back home, far less hassle than driving.

 

“I mean it when I say be careful about him, Gemma.” Chris said from behind me, startling me.

 

“You scared me.”

 

“Good, maybe you’ll stay away. I heard you and Scarlett talking,” he admitted, and I rubbed the back of my neck and shrugged apologetically. I didn’t want to tell him I’d been talking about his surprise attack, not Thomas. If anything I was more curious than ever, my mind working to put all the pieces together properly.

 

“What can I say? I’m nosey.”

 

“Sara trusted Thomas and he fucked her over. You’re a good girl, Gemma.” I was immediately reminded of how those words sounded when Thomas spoke them, and suddenly wished he was there. “I don’t want to see something like that happen to you.”

 

I smiled and patted his arm. “I’m a big girl, Chris. I can take care of myself.”

 

“You remind me of her, except you curse way more,” he said, laughing a little. I knew he was talking about Sara. It was kind of sadly sweet—ten years, and he still wanted her. I couldn’t tell if his expression was nostalgic, or a little sad. Either way, Chris hugged me goodnight, and I watched him drive away. I locked up the house, taking my time, I knew it would be hard for me to sleep, and I wasn’t looking forward to laying in bed restlessly.

 

I crawled underneath the covers, realizing with no small measure of annoyance that I actually missed having someone in bed beside me. I wouldn’t say I missed Thomas—not even to myself.

 

I wondered what Sara looked like, I wondered where she was, and if she was alright.

 

Most of all I wondered what their baby would have looked like.

 

 

—

 

 

I didn’t hear from Thomas again until the afternoon. I was out at one of the coffee shops, and was feeling rather proud of myself for _not_ buying something sweet when my phone rang. I felt lead settle into the pit of my belly at the sight of the caller ID; I had been trying to mentally prepare myself for this moment all day, but the drills had all gone rather poorly.

 

I had a feeling our conversation would go quite the same.

 

“I’m 20 minutes out of town.”

 

Even with my doubts about him, that smooth, baritone voice sent shivers down my spine. I gripped my paper coffee cup tighter. I tried for a halfhearted insult.

 

“Oh? What’s that got to do with me?”

 

“I’m coming over. Be ready. On the bed, naked. I don’t feel like waiting.” I wondered if something had gone badly in Anchorage—Thomas was always aggressive, but he sounded practically ravenous now, and I swallowed thickly, my cunt contracting wetly in my underwear.

 

“I’m not at home.”

 

“Then _get_ home. Leave the door open.” The conversation ended abruptly, and I sighed. I could stay out—if I wanted Thomas to track me down and then probably fuck me in the backseat of that massive truck. I rubbed my thighs together at the thought. _Not today, Gemma._ I thought sternly to myself. I had things I wanted to talk to him about, and I couldn’t do that when he was punishing me. With my luck, he’d gag me with my own panties or something else equally humiliating, and I’d loose my nerve to talk to him about Sara. Especially once he got those hands on me—I hated it, but he had this way of making me want to do exactly what _he_ wanted.

 

I said goodbye to Janet, the middle aged woman who owned the venue. “Bye dear!” she said, waving. “See you tomorrow!”

 

I took my time getting home, but I still reached before he did. I debated on whether or not to undress, and finally decided not to. I wanted to talk to him first, not when my post-cum brain was melting in dopamine and oxytocin.

 

I heard his car pull up, and I shuddered. Well, it was now or never. The door opened, and I could hear his heavy steps coming towards my room.

 

“I thought I told you to be naked?” He said gruffly, approaching the bed. His rough hands were under my top before I could speak, trying to tug it up over my head.

 

“Wait—”

 

He succeeded, and I stood in front of him in my jeans and bra. “Better.”

 

“Thomas wait!” I said, slapping his hands away. He looked irritated, and reached for me again. I hit his hand harder. “Stop!” He sighed, and ran a hand through his messy hair. He looked a little worse for wear—but still devilishly handsome, I noted with a twinge of jealousy. It took hours for me to be presentable, but he still looked fuckable after what looked to be a night of driving. His clothes were rumpled, like he’d never taken them off before falling asleep sitting up. Suddenly I wasn’t sure how to proceed. _Hey, Thomas, about that girl you got pregnant…_

 

“What?” he said irritatedly. Thomas was a man of few words, and even fewer of them were nice ones.

 

“I… Chris came over last night.” I stammered, trying to work my way up to it. I’d asked people way more difficult questions in my line of work, but here that line was very blurry. I’d chased this story like a lead and now I had a tiger by the tail with no clue whether to hang on or run screaming. Thomas’ eyes narrowed, and my breath hitched.

 

“You fucked him.”

 

“What? Ugh. No.” I shook my head. “He’s nice.. I mean, he’s cute. But no. I’m not really interested in being passed around town for a month before I leave,” I replied, frowning at him. “Seriously, that’s the first place your mind went?”

 

“Yours wouldn’t?” He drawled, looking at me like I’d said something incredibly stupid.

 

“Fair point,” I conceded. “But still. No. He and Scarlett came over. We talked about some things.”

 

His eyes became guarded. Thomas was incredibly intelligent, and I assumed he’d already worked out what I was getting at. Every ounce of desire went out of him, and he looked at me warily. I felt like I was in a cage with a wild animal, and I watched his every breath with rapt attention, looking for a tell as to what he would say. What he might do.

 

“They talked to you about Sara, I imagine?” He said, his tone held a carefully constructed indifference. “Christopher is still hung up on that, after all these years.” He said quietly. I flinched. _How cruel was that?_

 

“He loved that girl,” I defended, and he sneered at me.

 

“And whose problem was that? I had no idea who she was,” Thomas said harshly, and I bit my lip. “She was some random girl I met at a party.”

 

“You met her at a party?”

 

“Yes, Gemma.” He said, his voice resigned. Tom leaned back against the headboard and zipped up his pants with grim resolution. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

 

“No.” I said gently, turning to face him. “I can’t.”

 

“Fucking figures.” He muttered. “It’s a pretty boring story. It was summer. I was new. Went to a house party, met Sara. Fucked a few times on the coats upstairs. I was shit-faced, didn’t bother asking how old she was.” He took a breath. “Sara leaves Chris, I tell her I’m not marrying her. Her parents get mad, try to file some bullshit charges. They dropped them. Sara got rid of the baby. The end. Happy now, Gemma? You satisfied?” He asked, his tone cutting.

 

“I didn’t…”

 

“No, you didn’t know. Because everyone knows, so no one asks.”

 

I didn’t say anything—there wasn’t anything _to_ say. I couldn’t apologize—he wouldn’t care, and it wouldn’t matter. The silence between us was awkward and heavy until Thomas got up, dressed silently and left. I didn’t follow him to the door, and I didn’t go to the window to watch him leave, even though I wanted to. I hated him, but… I didn’t want him to go.

 

I fisted my hands in the bedsheets and gritted my teeth as I heard his car rumble to life and pull off. Whatever little fling I’d had with Thomas had ended.

 

What was most upsetting was that I hadn’t wanted it to.

 

I rose slowly from the bed and made my way through to the living room, peeking out back to the yard, just to make sure he was gone. My mind was buzzing with everything I’d heard. He’d confirmed it, everything Scarlett had told me was true. But I’d deeply violated Tom’s trust in me, and he wasn’t a “second chances” kind of guy. All or nothing.

 

And I’d just become nothing.

 

—

 

“You have to come!” Scarlett pleaded, reaching across me to grab a handful of popcorn. The redhead was draped across my lap with the television remote in her hand. She’d dropped by hours before and had asked if she could crash to get away from her parents. I’d told her she could, and she’d made herself right at home.

 

“I don’t, though,” I replied, looking down at her. “I don’t have to drive all the way to Anchorage with you heathens,” I said, referring to Chris and co, who were bombarding my phone, all asking the same thing. They were going to Anchorage for the weekend, and since I was leaving in a little over a week, they wanted me to come along. I wasn’t in the mood to go, but despite digging my heels in, I was considering it. It _would_ probably be fun, but I had been moody since Thomas had effectively dumped me the week before. I hadn’t contacted him, and he, in turn, hadn’t contacted me—we were in a Mexican standoff, neither one of us would admit defeat, so the coldness between us continued. I hadn’t even seen him in town, which proved me right (for once) about his loner tendencies. Going out would probably help me feel better—at least temporarily. I was angry with myself for being angry with him for ghosting me. He was a dick, he was rude, he was controlling and invasive—and I was _still_ thinking about him.

 

“It’ll help you get over you-know-who.” Scarlett wheedled, sensing my distraction. I rolled my eyes.

 

“You can say his name, he’s not Voldemort.”

 

“We should call him Voldemort as a code-name.”

 

“I like it,” I replied, but shook my head. “He’s too smart. If he was around, he’d immediately know we were talking about him.”

 

Scarlett barked out a laugh. “Well then we’ll never have anything to worry about.”

 

“Fine.” I said, throwing my hands above my head. “Both to the codename, and to going out. But nowhere expensive!” I said, hating how much like my mother I sounded. The group chat exploded: Scarlett had texted to let everyone know I was finally on board, and they were all talking about the things they wanted to do while we were there. Funnily enough, we were all crashing at Chris’ apartment. It was only two bedrooms, but there was a foldout couch, which I would be sharing with someone.

 

Allie texted the group.

 

_Let’s take Gemma to Condolences ;)_

 

“Do I even… want to know? Please don’t say it’s a fucking sex club, because I am _not_ ending up in some Eyes Wide Shut shit.”

 

__

 

Anchorage had more nightlife than Blumfield, I’d give it that. In the end, I’d refused to drive, and we’d all piled into Allie’s old dodge, while Rob and his lady friend—whose name I now knew was Joy—followed in his two seater camaro. I had dark thoughts as I passed the particular stretch of road where my car had broken down, but the car gods were smiling and we drove through without incident.

 

“Hungry?” Chris asked, leaning in the doorway. Allie had volunteered to sleep on the pull out couch with me, and the blonde was currently in the shower. We were going clubbing tonight—and tomorrow night—and everyone was busy getting ready.

 

Chris’ apartment was nice. It was earthy, more personable than Thomas’ house, with exposed brick walls, and deep reed wood floors. They were like polar opposites without meaning to be.

 

“Yeah, I should probably eat,” I agreed. “I need to have _something_ to puke up at 3am when I’m wasted.”

 

“That’s the spirit.”

 

He showed me to the kitchen, where I raided the fridge for a sandwich, and the pantry for one of those mini bags of chips.

 

“Rob is going to clean you out, you know. He and Joy practically destroyed the diner.” I said, taking a bite of the cheese sandwich I’d made. Rob was like a hoover when he was high; he’d eat anything. Anything that was edible—although sometimes the jury was out on that. Last week he’d eaten a raw potato at my house for 20 bucks. He’d been sick like a dog after, but he’d claimed it was worth it.

 

“He usually does,” Chris agreed. He looked around for a moment, before leaning over the kitchen table to speak softly to me. “Have you… heard anything?”

 

I hadn’t really talked to them about what had happened with Thomas, only telling them it was over—whatever it was. I wondered why Chris was bringing it up. He had no way of knowing I was still sore about it. “No.” I said, shrugging, struggling to keep my expression nonchalant. “But it’s whatever.”

 

I could tell he wasn’t convinced, but he dropped it, so I was thankful anyway. I could tell Chris was relieved I wasn’t fucking around with Tom anymore. Not because he was interested, but because he just… genuinely didn’t like him. I could relate.

 

“So this club we’re going to,” I said, chewing thoughtfully. “How’s the music?” I asked, hoping they played at least some things I knew, and could dance to—I was ready to let loose. Besides, I could wear that slinky little dress I’d been saving. Despite my concerns, I was still excited to be going out.

 

“Okay,” Chris replied, shrugging. “Scarlett says its good, that’s got to count for something.”

 

I pursed my lips and raised an eyebrow in question. Scarlett’s taste in music was something of a mixed bag. Some things were okay, and then others… How do you go from techno to country in one playlist? “Now I’m even more concerned.”

 

“Hey, I _am_ here too, you know,” She said from the doorway, her voice wounded. Scarlet sat down at the table and poured herself a glass of juice. “And I also call next on whichever shower becomes available. Chris’ apartment had two bathrooms, and we were all taking turns at using them to get ready. “And _I_ happen to think I have impeccable taste in music.”

 

“You would,” I said accusatorially, hatefully remembering the hour of Taylor Swift she’d put me through in the car. “Criminals always say they’re innocent.” She rolled her eyes at me, and quicker than I’d ever seen her move, she reached for my plate and ripped off a bite of my sandwich. “What the fuck!”

 

“What are you wearing?” she asked, ignoring my pointed glare. “I have this cute blue romper thing.”

 

“It’s red. Dark red, and super low cut,” I said, motioning below my breasts, where the neckline ended. I was curvy, but I didn’t have huge tits. I was stuck somewhere in a C cup, depending on where I shopped, and as such, I could get away with wearing low cut things with no bra, or minimal body tape. Allie called that she was out of the shower in the main bedroom, and Scarlett headed off for her turn in the bathroom. She was on an air mattress she’d brought with her, and would be bunking in Chris’ room. Her boyfriend was meeting us at the club, and I knew she wanted to look her best. When Rob and Joy told me I could use the guest bathroom I grabbed my clothes and headed in. It was still humid from the person before me, but it would be bearable once I stripped down. I decided to leave my hair alone—I’d been twisting it up at night and wearing it down lately, and I didn’t feel like washing it, so I opted to stretch the style one more day. I showered quickly and shaved, suddenly mindful that the others were probably almost ready, if not waiting on me. We were going to pre-game here, and then take an Uber to the club, that way everyone could drink. I slid into my slinky, velvety dress, tugging at the hem uncomfortably when I noted how short it actually was. I’d ordered the dress online, but hadn’t actually worn it out yet. It dipped in a low, wide vee at the front, just exposing the sides of my breasts, before flaring out into a slight bell shape over my hips, and ended just a few inches below my ass.

 

I smoothed one side of my hair back and pinned in a fake flower before applying my makeup. I went a little heavier this time, considering I wanted it to last, and then exited the bathroom, making sure I had all my things with me. The last thing I needed was Rob screaming that he’d found a pair of my panties in Chris’ bathroom.

 

“Well, fuck.” Allie replied from the couch, and I felt my cheeks warm.

 

“It’s not too short, right? like you can’t see my entire ass?” I said self consciously, grabbing the strappy heels I’d brought to wear. I slid them on, and took a few steps to balance myself.

 

“Not your _whole_ ass,” Rob said lasciviously, and Joy punched him in the arm.

 

“You look amazing,” Allie replied. “Honestly, _I_ kind of want to fuck you.”

 

“I’d pay to see that.” Rob muttered, and Allie had to stop me from stomping over to the other side of the living room to pummel him myself.

 

“You couldn’t fucking afford it!” I yelled, shaking my fist at him. Joy, meanwhile, was rooting around in her bag, looking for something.

 

“Ah!” she replied triumphantly, her curly brown hair bunching as she jumped up from the couch. “You guys each need to have one of these. And take a lollipop, for when we’re in the club.” She was holding a plastic bag full of unlabeled, wrapped candies. I eyed them suspiciously.

 

“These have weed in them, don’t they?” I asked, and she nodded excitedly. “I should have known,” I replied, taking two imitation jolly ranchers and a rather large lollipop. I unwrapped one of the smaller candies before popping it into my mouth. It was sweet, and didn’t have the bitter, earthy taste I associated with most edibles. The two other times I’d had them, anyway. “These have a reputable source, right?” I asked, sucking on the cherry flavored sweet. “I should have asked that before I put this in my mouth, but still.”

 

Joy looked offended. “I make these. You’re good to go.”

 

“Oh yeah, I’ve been eating her brownies since forever,” Rob said through a handful of gummy bears. “It’s chill.”

 

“I’m going to be seeing fucking giraffes and shit, aren’t I?” I asked, laughing. It had been so long since I’d really had fun like this. I was glad Renner forced me out of the office, although I _did_ miss writing.

 

“Only if you eat too many, like this idiot,” Joy deadpanned, jerking her chin at Rob, who was still chewing.

 

“What?”

 

“Where’s Chris?” I asked, looking around. I realized I hadn’t seen the blond mountain of a man since I’d gotten out of the shower.

 

“He went to go get booze,” Allie said. Although I think—yep.”

 

A key turned in the lock, and Chris entered, looking freshly shaven and his hair still damp from the shower he’d had while I was taking mine. “You guys look like you were talking about me,” he said, closing the door behind him.

 

“Only wondering how long you were going to take with the booze,” Scarlett replied, entering the room dramatically before snatching one of the bags out of Chris’ hands. “Oh, Jack Daniels. Nice.”

 

“Good to see you’re all accepting questionable candy,” he said dryly, shrugging his coat off. Someone procured shot glasses at Chris’ instructions, and he called an Uber to come for us in an hour and a half, which was more than enough time for us to get plastered. The candy kicked in before long, and I was feeling pleasantly buzzed, with that stumbling humor drunkenness provided. We piled into the cab, giggling. I’d popped another jolly rancher ten minutes before, and was still sucking on it in the cab. “Gemma I think this is the most fucked up I’ve ever seen you,” Scarlett said, praise evident in her voice. I grinned saucily, and licked my lips.

 

“I’m not even fucked up yet,” I said, which was only half true. I still had a long way to go before blackout drunk, but I was steadily on my way there. It didn’t take long to get to the club, and soon we were standing impatiently in line, huddled from the cold. Allie and I had our arms around each other, and Scarlett had squeezed into the middle for warmth. We hadn’t wanted to bother with jackets or purses, and I opted for a little wallet just large enough to fit my phone, and hung off of my wrist. Even Joy had forgone a jacket, and had her back pressed to mine, which Rob lewdly pointed out.

 

“It’s cold, you dick,” Scarlett snapped, and Joy dug another candy out of her purse.

 

“I’m going to loose my buzz by the time we get in!” she complained, and I nodded. But despite our intoxicated whining, we got in before long, and were enveloped into the dancing bodies.

 

“I’m getting a drink,” Scarlett yelled to be heard over the music, and I raised an eyebrow, wondering how she afforded all of this working at that little thrift store. Either she had a side hustle, or her boyfriend was her sugar daddy. “What do you want?”

 

“Vodka. Cranberry,” I said, and she scampered off. I wondered how she would find us again, but none of the others had seemed to question it, so I simply trusted that she would find her way back. Then I remembered that her boyfriend was meeting us here, and I wondered if he really _was_ her sugar daddy—not that I was judging. I could have used one myself.

 

_I got I got I got I got loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA—_

 

Okay, so the music _was_ good. Scarlett hadn’t let me down. I started to dance, rotating my hips as I mouthed the words to the song. I loved to dance, and I wasted no time in accepting my drink from Scarlett when she returned, grinning. She was holding hands with her boyfriend, who I had been correct in assuming was older than her. Easily in his mid thirties, but still handsome and youthful looking.

 

“Liam,” She shouted, pointing at him. I nodded, waving a little. “Gemma!” she pointed at me, and he smiled. Allie and I, as the only single girls—Chris was off chatting up a redhead at the bar—paired off to dance together. We had that unspoken rule to keep each other from trashy guys, even as we both got more and more wasted. Liam was either a millionaire, or I ordered ridiculously cheap drinks, because he kept them flowing as long as I wanted them. He grinned at me as I held up another finger, motioning for another drink. I giggled, watching Allie grind on a guy she’d managed to snag in the two seconds I hadn’t been watching her. I shrugged, sufficiently drunk enough not to care that she’d be mad at me in the morning. I felt a hand on my hip, and turned—I was met with an attractive looking man with a chiseled jaw line. I grinned at him, nodding my ascent to the hand that was splayed on my hip.

 

“Dance with me?” he mouthed, and I walked with him away from the bar where I’d just done another shot with Allie. He was far taller than I was, so I settled for draping myself against him as we swayed to the music. I felt his hands ghost over my ass, and I grinned, wiggling my hips. I pulled away from his chest to look at his face, but movement over his shoulder stole my attention. Tall, pale, confident swagger, and cold blue eyes.

 

_Thomas._

 

My heart leapt into my chest. I hadn’t seen him since that day in my little rental home, and now his eyes were locked onto mine. I didn’t bother wondering whether or not he’d seen me, and the man I was dancing with gripped my hips tighter. He was with a slim, pretty brunette, whose hands were freely wandering his body. I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked, in his expensive, tailored shirt and slacks. I was dressed far more provocatively than when he’d picked me up from _Salt_ , and I knew that wasn’t lost on him.

 

“Something wrong?” asked the man, grinning down at me. I shook my head, feeling self conscious as I continued to dance with him. “I’m Aiden.” He was taller than me, though not quite as tall as Thomas, and stockier. His hands were warm on my hips.

 

“Gemma,” I said, my mind beginning to go fuzzy from the alcohol and the weed. I found myself pressing lasciviously against him, dragging my hands up and down my sides as I ground my hips against his. I was drunk enough to admit that this wasn’t for Aiden—I hoped Tom was watching. I hoped he was jealous and angry because I was _never_ going to fuck him again, I thought petulantly, turning in Aiden’s arms so that I was facing outward, so that I could lock eyes with him from across the dance floor, through the mass of writhing bodies.

 

I knew he couldn’t read my mind, but it didn’t stop me from directing my every thought at him, using Aiden as a prop. He ground his crotch into my ass and I gasped in surprise, noting how Tom’s nostril’s flared and his eyes narrowed. I almost grinned in triumph—even though he didn’t want me, I wasn’t supposed to let anyone else have me.

 

“Typical male bullshit,” I muttered, rolling my hips. I was only getting more and more intoxicated—a girl came by with free shots, and of course I did more with Aiden, pounding them back, giggling. I had lost sight of Allie and Chris, and I wanted to go back to them. I made to move away, and Aiden grabbed my arm. I was fairly drunk now, and my body seemed to move slower than my mind, everything taking longer.

 

“Where are you going?” He asked, catching my wrist.

 

“I need to… find my friends,” I said, my knees a little shaky. Everything was rushing to my head, and suddenly, I just wanted to sit down. It was hard for me to concentrate, and the words were hard to pull from the muddy blankness of my mind. He didn’t let go.

 

“You should come home with me,” he purred, pulling me against his chest. I looked up at him in fuzzy confusion. I didn’t want to go with him. I wanted to go with Thomas. But he didn’t want me.

 

“No.” I shook my head, and tried to push away from him and stumbled. One of the bouncers roaming the dance floor checked on me.

 

“Is she okay?” he asked, and Aiden nodded.

 

“Oh yeah. My girlfriend’s just had a little too much to drink,” he said, laughing. I shook my head, trying to get the words out. _I’m not his girlfriend._ My tongue was like cotton in my mouth, and as I got out a muffled dissent, the man was gone, and Aiden was steering me towards the exit. I looked frantically for Scarlett, Rob, anyone—but I couldn’t see them. We were nearing the door when Aiden jerked behind me, and his steely grip on my upper arm vanished. Someone screamed, and I looked behind me to see Thomas on top of the other man, driving his fist into his face.

 

I swayed on my feet, not really comprehending what I was seeing as Aiden tried to buck Thomas off of him, even punching him in the side of the head, but Thomas was singleminded, and the blows seemed not to phase him. If I hadn’t spoken, I was fairly sure Thomas would have continued to beat Aiden until his skull caved in. I swayed drunkenly, my eyes wide.

 

“Thomas…?”

 

At the sound of my voice he looked up. He stood, straightening his clothes, his knuckles bloody. Aiden was coughing on the ground, his lips bleeding and nose clearly broken. Some of Aiden’s blood was on Thomas’ shirt and I noted this as he gripped my shoulder and steered me out of the club. None of the bouncers said a word, but I knew everyone was watching as we left. I wondered if my friends had seen, and were trying to follow us out through the crowded club but hadn’t reached me in time.

 

In the parking lot, I yanked my hand out of Toms, and crossed my arms. “You don’t get to do this!” I said loudly, slurring slightly. His fists were clenched, and he turned slowly to glare at me. “You don’t get to just come back and act like you own m-me!” I hiccoughed, and I hated the tears that gathered in my eyes as I yelled at him. I hated how glad I was to see him, and I hated even more how much I wanted to follow him. But I drunkenly stood my ground. The few stragglers outside steered clear of our showdown, and Thomas rounded on me like he was going to say something. I flinched, and he stopped, just looking at me. I was wasted, and I swayed on my feet before catching myself, batting his hands away when he tried to help me. “No, Thomas!” I said, pushing him away. “You hurt me.”

 

“You hurt _me_.”

 

“I j-just wanted to know more about you,” I said, wiping away the tears that I hadn’t given permission to fall—or even to form. “You’re alwaysso mean,” I slurred, my words running together. Thomas looked a little chastened, but he reached for me anyway, the cage of his arms was too strong for me to pull away from in my state, and I struggled weakly against my chest as he rested his chin on my curly head.

 

“Come, Gemma,” he said, his voice quiet, and not cutting, like it normally was. I still struggled, shaking my head.

 

“You left me!”

 

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” He said softly, and I felt the tears push harder at my eyelids and I squeezed them shut, sniffling. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“This is the first time you’ve ever apologized to me,” I said, my voice small and heavy with tears. I knew there would be makeup stains all over his shirt when I lifted my head. Probably some snot, too, the way I was blubbering.

 

“This is the first time you’ve deserved an apology,” he snapped, though there was no real bite in the insult. Maybe he was being affectionate with me because I was drunk and he didn’t think I’d remember. Even though we were in public, I could feel his hands moving reverently across my back, his other hand playing in my thick, kinky hair. “Let’s go, baby. I want to leave, before your boyfriend calls the cops.”

 

“He’s not my boyfrien’,” I said childishly, allowing Thomas to lead me to his familiar car. “What about Skinny Mc Huge Titties?” I spat, watching as he unlocked the vehicle. “Won’t she need a ride?”

 

“I’m sure Kelly will find one.” he said nonchalantly, ignoring my dig at his date. Despite my runaway mouth, he helped me into the car, and buckled me in, before going around to the driver’s side and getting in himself. I noted that I was spending a lot of time drunk in this car. Thomas didn’t waste any time starting the car, and driving off. I didn’t know Anchorage, and I was drunk before we’d even gotten to _Condolences,_ so I had no idea where he was taking me. I trusted Thomas, though, so I merely watched the passing cityscape with inebriated interest. He pulled over inside a cul-de-sac, turning off the engine. I unbuckled myself with clumsy fingers, and made to get out, but he stopped me.

 

“No, Gemma. We’re not getting out.”

 

“No?”

 

“No.”

 

He motioned to the back seat. “Climb over the console and get in the back.” I had kicked my shoes off almost as soon as I’d gotten into the car, and scrambled to do as he asked, keenly aware of the fact that my dress rode up over my ass as I bent over, exposing me to his gaze. Thomas didn’t do what I did, and got out to climb into the back seat. I realized somewhat belatedly that he’d probably only had me climb over the seat so he could get a good look at my ass.

 

“Where did you get this fucking dress, Gemma?” He asked, his voice soft as he traced one finger down the neckline of the tiny garment. He ran the pad of his finger around the swell of the exposed flesh of my breast. “God you look fucking hot for it, do you know how many more men were looking at you?” he breathed, his other hand coming up under the hem of my dress.

 

“Did I make you jealous?” I asked, my intoxicated brain unable to filter anything coming out of my mouth. “Aiden was an asshole.”

 

He looked at me in the dim light filtering in through the tinted windows, and his eyes looked softer, warmer.

 

“Yes, you did, little girl,” he said, his hand cupping my chin. “You made me _very_ jealous.” The back seat of the all black Hummer was huge, with enough room for Thomas to maneuver me onto his lap comfortably. “He was a predator, Gemma. ‘Asshole’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.” I hadn’t fully absorbed the reality of what he’d tried to do—in my head, he’d attacked Aiden because he was with me, but it was more than that—I was completely fucked up, and Aiden had been taking advantage of that, giving me more drinks until I couldn’t resist him. He was going to take me back to his place and… I shuddered visibly, and Tom hushed me, mumbling something comforting in my ear.

 

“You said you’d take care of me,” I said in a small voice, my hands tracing random patterns on his clothed chest. My knees were splayed open across his lap and I could feel the heat of him through my skimpy panties.

 

“When have I not taken care of you, baby girl?” He asked, his voice a low growl as he gripped my hips and ground my rapidly moistening cunt against the bulge growing in his pants.

 

“When you dropped off the planet,” I snapped, crossing my arms. He grinned wickedly and pressed his lips to the side of my chin, nibbling gently.

 

“And were you a good girl while daddy was punishing you? You didn’t let anyone else in here, did you?” he said, his voice heavy with lust as the tips of his fingers strayed beneath my panties, pressing lightly against my clit.

 

“Ah—yes, daddy!” I breathed, pushing my hips wantonly into his hand. “I didn’t want anyone else,” I admitted, my mouth saying things my brain hadn’t given clearance to. He smiled, his other hand bringing my face down to his and he captured my lips, sweeping his tongue into my mouth.

 

“Your ass looked amazing in this dress,” he said, kneading one of my cheeks in his hand, using the other—which was still slick with my juices—to unzip himself. Of course he wasn’t wearing underwear, and instantly I could feel the hot, hard length of him against my wet cunt and I realized, truly, how much I’d missed this. It had only been a week, but it felt like months as he slid into me, groaning at how tight I was, even when I was fully aroused and accepting. I hadn’t worn a bra with my dress, and Thomas declined to take that off too, simply pulling my breasts out from the soft fabric. There was something deliciously _dirty_ about how he fucked me in my clothes, too impatient to take them off of me.

 

“You know this is what he was thinking about,” Thomas growled, grinding his hips into me, earning himself a gasp. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been inside of me for almost eight days, but he felt bigger, harder, and I groaned, pulsing around him. I could feel one of his hands at my nipples, pulling at the barbell. “He wanted to be right where I am, between your wet thighs,” Thomas spoke, and I groaned at his words, burying my face in the crook of his neck, my teeth finding his skin. He held my hips, bouncing me on the hardened length of him. I cried out, my back arching as my head lolled back.

 

“Fuck, daddy!”

 

“Yes, this is just mine,” he groaned, the tip of his cock pressing against my cervix. “No one else can fuck you like this.” I knew he was right—I’d never felt like this with anyone else. I wasn’t ready to give in, though, and I squeezed him with my pussy, eliciting a tortured moan from his throat.

 

“Not yours,” I panted, squeezing his hips with my knees as I rode him. “I hate you.”

 

He smirked, before lowering his head to suck one of my nipples into his mouth. He bit it and I cried out again. “You hate me?” he asked, his voice breathless, but mocking. I didn’t remember him laying me down in the back seat, but suddenly I was flat on my back, my legs bent with my thighs pressed against my belly as he was forcing his cock into me, and I squealed, biting my lip. “Say you hate me, Gemma,” he growled, pounding the air out of my lungs as I moaned and gasped, unable to form coherent words to answer his request. “You can’t,” he said, his hips pressed against mine as his cock moved inside me.

 

“I—I—”

 

“Yes, baby girl. Tell daddy.”

 

The words caught in my throat, and wouldn’t come out. I wanted to tell him how much I despised him, how rude he was, how much I detested his attitude—but as he rutted against me, driving his hips into mine, I couldn’t force my mouth to form them.

 

“F-Fuck you, Thomas!” I gasped, and he grinned, kissing my neck. He sucked hard, chewing on the spot his lips had left until I was sure it would be a massive, ugly bruise.

 

“You can’t. Because you don’t.”

 

I didn’t hate him after all.

 

I refused to say it, though, and he laughed, the scruff of his beard scratching against my collar bone as he moved inside me. “You don’t have to say it, Gemma, because I already know. I know how much you love my cock inside you, how easily I can make you cum. You’re close now, aren’t you baby?” he asked, his voice leading me closer to the orgasm I could feel building at the base of my spine.

 

“Oh yes, fuck yes,” I groaned, my nails digging into his back. “Thomas!”

 

I could feel his hips moving sharply against mine, and he was close, too. He reached between us to place a finger on my clit, rubbing me in time with his deep thrusts. I rocketed over the edge, clamping down as he came inside me with a strangled yell, holding my hips tightly to his as he emptied inside me, his arms shaking. I could hear him muttering under his breath, saying something about how fucking tight I was. Thomas stayed inside me for a moment, before pulling out with a wet pop. I felt my face go hot with shame as the fluids he’d held plugged in place slid out between us onto his leather seats.

 

“That’s hot,” he said, and I covered my face with my hands.

 

“Napkin,” I said, my voice muffled. Thomas ignored me, and leaned over the middle console to get something from the driver’s side. He began cleaning up the mess we’d made, wiping my folds with the baby wipes he apparently kept on hand. I wondered how many women he’d done that for—probably not many, as he wasn’t the kindest of people. I watched him clean me with careful, gentle fingers and smooth my dress back down. I had sobered up a little, but only slightly. “You’re touching me different,” I said, and he looked up at me from between my legs, where his fingers had been stroking softly over the lacy top of my panties. “Why?” I wondered if maybe Thomas was a little drunk too. I was just starting to think he wouldn’t bother to answer when he sighed deeply.

 

“Do we have to do this now, Gemma?” he asked, and I nodded childishly. We _did_ have to do this now.

 

 

“Why did you leave?” I asked, sitting up on my elbows. Thomas was straightening his shirt. “Why didn’t you talk to me, or say anything?”

 

“Gemma—”

 

“No, I want a real answer!” I said loudly, my voice cracking a little. “I want to know why.”

 

“Because you hurt me, Gemma.” I was surprised by the tiredness in his voice. It was probably very late, though I wasn’t sure what time it was. “And you were just a fuck. We didn’t owe each other anything.” I tried not to be hurt by his words. He was right, but I couldn’t stop the pang in my chest.

 

“I want to get out,” I said lowly, but he ignored me and kept talking.

 

“How would you feel if a stranger went poking around in old wounds? And asked…questionable sources for that information, instead of just coming to you?”

 

“You wouldn’t tell me!” I defended, crossing my arms. “I would have come to you if you at any point had made it clear that you would answer my questions instead of avoiding them or fucking me into silence!” Thomas rolled his eyes and frowned, but didn’t disagree—probably just to keep this from spiraling into a real argument instead of drunken, one sided tirades from me. We were silent for a moment, and finally I sighed and looked up at him. “So you’re going to drop me back off at Chris’ place?” I asked, and he couldn’t help but scoff and roll his eyes. Thomas tapped one long finger on the tip of my nose.

 

“Why would I do that, stupid girl?” I bristled at the insult.

 

“You said I was just a fuck!” I shrilled. “So If I’m just a fuck, take me back to Chris!” I knew saying his name was like rubbing salt in a wound, but I was drunk and I didn’t care. Thomas _deserved_ to hurt a little bit after he’d abandoned me like that. We didn’t owe each other anything, but it had damn _stung_ when he’d just dropped me like a hot potato.

 

“I said you _were_ just a fuck. Jesus, Gemma, you’re so goddamn negative.” I fought the urge to kick him in his incredibly long legs. Wait, _were_? So what were we now? I wasn’t infatuated enough to believe Thomas was boyfriend material. He was possessive, jealous, and unafraid to break and bend the rules for his own benefit. He would take advantage of a situation in a heartbeat, to skew it in his own favor. He was also snide and cutting—but he was also passionate and gentle when he didn’t think anyone was watching. He was funny a good cook—and when he was high, Thomas liked to watch old cartoons. I wondered how many people knew that about him.

 

I wondered if Sara had known that about him.

 

I was afraid to ask him if I was _still_ just a fuck—because either way, I was afraid of his answer. Instead of climbing over the middle console again, I got out of the car and got back into the front. Thomas waited for me to finish buckling in before he started the car. I didn’t think he would drive all the way home tonight, and I squinted, trying to see the clock on the dash without my glasses.

 

_5:17am._

 

Shit. I dreaded checking my phone, knowing that I would have about a thousand missed calls and texts from Scarlett. I probably had some pretty entertaining drunk messages, too. _I wonder if this affects my plans for tomorrow._

 

My little wallet was on the floor near my feet, and I stretched down to pick it up, snatching the charger from Thomas’ phone to plug it into mine.

 

“What the fuck,” he protested, and I showed him his phone.

 

“You’re on eighty percent. You’ll live.” I said, yawning. The sky was still dark. It had been weird to get used to how late the sun rose here this time of year—not until after eight in the morning. The city was still mostly empty, and I thought I saw a familiar sign before we were off down another street, before stopping at a townhouse on a little tree lined street. He parked, and pointed across my chest to a white one with red brick steps. “The key is under the mat. Go take a shower.” Thomas instructed, and I nodded. I would—mainly because my skin was sweaty and smelled like alcohol, and my dress smelled like a gross mixture of Thomas and Aiden’s cologne. I slid out of the car and headed inside while Thomas put his phone to his ear to make a call.

 

This place was decorated similarly to Thomas’ home in Blumfield, with light colors and modern furniture. I dropped my heels at the door, having not bothered to put them back on my aching feet. The downstairs consisted of a guest bedroom—I marched right past it, knowing that Thomas expected me to use it—an open kitchen, and a living room. Back towards the entranceway was a set of steps leading upstairs. I took them, emerging into a large master bedroom, with it’s own fireplace and chase lounge. I rolled my eyes. Thomas had _nothing_ but the best at all times.

 

Which was why it continually surprised me that he was interested in me at all.

 

I dropped my wallet on the lounge, and padded into the bathroom, where I was forced to admit that Thomas had damn good taste.

 

And a damn huge bank account.

 

The floor was heated marble, and the tub was sunk several feet into the floor, and was the size of a hot tub. I began filling it immediately, rummaging through his cabinets until I found soap, a washcloth, and bath salts. I heard the front door open as the tub filled. Tom’s footsteps were muffled from downstairs, but I could hear him checking for me. I heard him on the steps, and then—

 

“Figures.”

 

“I was supposed to use the guest bedroom?” I asked, my hands on my hips. He held his hands up placatingly, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He stripped off his shirt and pants, before standing in front of me naked. I could feel my chest tightening. He really was beautiful. The tattoo running up his side contrasted starkly with his pale skin, drawing my gaze up the full length of his body. His cock was half hard, resting against his thigh despite us having fucked not an hour before. I leaned over to turn off the water, testing it with my finger tips. I stepped back, but Tom had moved closer while I’d been distracted, and I stepped right into him.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Take this off,” he said, his fingers tugging at the hem of my dress. “It smells like that asshole.” I peeled my clothes off of me, and stood, somewhat self consciously, in front of him in my panties. Thomas had seen me naked before, plenty of times, but I still felt nervous when he looked at me now.

 

“Don’t hide, Gemma.” He said,pushing my arms down, away from my body. “You’re so beautiful, why wouldn’t I want to see every inch of you?”

 

_He thinks I’m beautiful._

 

I got into the tub, stepping in gingerly so i wouldn’t slip, and sank in up to my shoulders. Thomas slid in behind me,his long legs on either side of my hips. His long arms went around me, and I felt him settle himself against me, his chin on my head.

 

“Whatever you’re overthinking, stop it,” he said, somehow knowing that my thoughts were racing. I could feel the tiredness seeping into my consciousness—my night was beginning to catch up with me. My limbs felt heavy, and I started to feel a little nauseous, my stomach turning from the alcohol. I grabbed the washcloth I’d lain on the rim of the tub and began soaping up, yawning.

 

I got out before long, and towelled off, before sitting on the bed. Thomas emerged from the bathroom shortly after, his hair wet, and a hair of briefs adorning his narrow hips.

 

“Thomas I don’t have anything to sleep in,” I said, and he sniffed, before stepping over to a dresser,, which was pushed up against the wall, and sliding open one of the drawers. He tossed me a t-shirt.

 

I slid it over my head, allowing myself to inhale the scent of the fabric deeply. it smelled like him. it fell almost to my knees, which actually made it slightly longer than my dress. I almost laughed at the absurdity of that, before climbing onto the huge bed, my knees sinking into the comforter. “Think you’ve got enough room for three people in here,” I said, snuggling down into the pillows. Thomas got in beside me, pulling my back to his chest.

 

“Four, actually.”

 

“I’m assuming you’re correcting me based on personal experience.”

 

I felt his lips quirk against the skin of my shoulder, where he’d pressed his face, and I figured I’d be alright not having a definitive answer to that one. We fell asleep like that, with Thomas caged protectively around me.

 

When we woke briefly in the late afternoon, I immediately went for my phone. “I didn’t tell anyone I was safe!” I muttered, as Thomas sat up groggily behind me, his expression irritated.

 

“Come back to bed.” His voice was raspy from sleep, and the order made me shiver.

 

“I’m just checking my phone.”

 

_“Come.”_

 

I got back into bed, my sore feet thanking me for getting off of them. I had almost sixty missed messages in the group chat—which was mainly drunken musings about where I’d gone with Thomas, and twenty seven missed calls from Scarlett.

 

I would listen to the message later, when Thomas wasn’t glaring at me hatefully for waking him. He typically rose earlier than I did, but today was a special case. He wrapped his arms around my middle, and rested his head on my belly, his legs tangling in mine, trapping me underneath the covers. I texted the group chat, gritting my teeth. It was like a virtual walk of shame.

 

_Hey guys._

 

Of course, Scarlett was the first the respond.

 

_Where are u?? Obviously with Thomas but are u still in the city?_

 

I wondered where they thought he’d spirited me off to at 3am. _Yes, omg. He has a place here._

 

 _saw tom beat that guy’s ass! u okay??_ Rob asked, his text punctuated with the fist emoji.

 

_Yeah, he was a creep. He was forcing me to go home with him, Thomas stopped him. I’m okay now._

 

It hadn’t really sunk in before what Aiden was trying to do—but it did now. If Thomas hadn’t stepped in, Aiden would have walked me right out of the club, and probably raped me. It made sense now, the brutality with which he’d attacked the other man. There was something primally attractive about it, now that I’d revisited the memory. Something incredibly sexy about the fact that… well that I knew Thomas could protect me.

 

And that he _would_ protect me.

 

This thing between us didn’t have a name or a label and as much as I wanted to slap one on it, I knew he wasn’t ready for that. We were basically exclusive, of that I was fairly sure—or at least sure that he expected fidelity from _me_.

 

Allie texted next.

 

_Oh my god. I’m so glad you’re okay. Scarlett was calling you._

 

I smiled. _I noticed. Sorry, I was completely passed out. But I’m good. Probably going to fall back asleep._

 

Scarlett finally responded, and I doubted she was even at the apartment—she was probably with her boyfriend. _Understandable. It was wild last night. An ambulance showed up after you left, douche tried to say he was your boyfriend and that Thomas had assaulted him._

 

Rob cut in. _we told them it was bullshit, and they banned him from the club!_

 

I was glad he wouldn’t be menacing any more women at that club, and hopefully his injuries would make him think twice before trying some shit like that again.

 

“You need to go back to sleep.”

 

“You mean because I’m keeping you up?”

 

“Yes. I can hear you tapping on your phone,” Thomas said irritatedly, the scruff of his beard pricking me through the shirt I’d slept in. “Go back to sleep.” I _was_ still tired, and after pushing him off of me so that I could run into the bathroom, I climbed back into bed. Thomas was on his back now, one hand behind his head. I laid my head on his chest, and draped one arm lazily over him. He didn’t say anything, or move, so I assumed he was asleep. When I was just fading out of consciousness again, I heard him grunt, and one arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer. His hand dropped to my ass and I grinned sleepily.

 

Pervert.

 

\--

 

“Well then how did it get here if you didn’t go get it?” I asked, gesturing to my bag, which Thomas expected me to believe had magically appeared by the door. “Who brought it?”

 

“Scarlett’s sugar daddy,” he said snidely, and I punched his arm.

 

“They’re actually dating. I think.” I paused, before turning my gaze on him. “Why do you have Scarlett’s number?” My eyebrows shot up. “Oh my god, did you and she—”

 

“ _You_ have Scarlett’s number.”

 

“How did you figure out my password, anyway?” I asked, grabbing the small duffel. He shrugged.

 

“It’s easy, its your birthday. Which is on your driver’s license.” I frowned at him. “You really should change it, that’s always the first thing people try.”

 

“Stop going through my bag.”

 

“I only went in there once, to look at your ID. I wanted to make sure you were telling the truth about who you were.”

 

“That’s fair, but you could have asked. I’d have shown it to you.”

 

“And I knew that how, exactly?” Thomas replied, following me up the stairs. I dropped it—there was no point in arguing with him about this. He didn’t see how what he’d done was invasive, and I wasn’t going to be able to convince him. This was an argument best left for a later time. Thomas’ morality seemed weirdly skewed at times—or perhaps it was just his own sense of entitlement, making him hypocritical. I sat on the bed with my bag in front of me. I was still wearing Tom’s oversized shirt, and I was ready to put on my own things.

 

“What were you doing here, anyway? Aside from banging Tits von Skinny bitch,” I said venomously, pulling out the pair of lounge pants and extra tank top I’d packed.

 

“Her name is Kelly.”

 

“I’m aware.” I said, sliding off the bed holding my clothes. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to go out dancing again tonight, especially in lieu of last night’s events. “You told me last night.” I couldn’t help that my tone was clipped—and I didn’t know why I was upset. Well, I did—I was jealous—but I wasn’t going to admit it, especially not to Tom.

 

“I had business to take care of. Family things.” He said, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

 

“Family?”

 

“What, surprised I have one? You didn’t think I sprang fully formed out of the ground, did you?” He said sarcastically, and I couldn’t help the corner of my mouth turning up. It _was_ hard for me to picture Thomas as a baby. I imagined a pale. haughty infant, ordering his mother to feed him.

 

“It _is_ a pretty compelling backstory,” I said, pulling his t-shirt over my head. “What are we doing for dinner?”

 

“I dunno,” he replied, looking up at me from his phone. “You want to cook?”

 

“Not even a little,” I said, pulling my own shirt on. “I guess we’re ordering out.”

 

 

 

An hour later, we were eating Indian food on the floor of his living room, looking for something to watch. “I want to watch something scary,” I said through a mouthful of dahl. “Preferably with ghosts.”

 

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Thomas asked, taking a sip of wine. I’d declined to drink, my stomach wasn’t at a hundred percent yet, and I didn’t want to risk ralphing all over his expensive looking rug. I was surprised by the question, mainly because it was him asking it.

 

“I don’t know,” I admitted, tearing off a piece of naan. “I’ve never really thought about it before. Do you?”

 

I was a realist; I believed in things that were quantifiable with my senses, or at least, that could be explained to me by someone with an advanced physics degree. Thomas wasn’t the sort of man I thought would believe in anything supernatural, especially not _ghosts_.

 

“I dunno. What are ghosts, but memories?”

 

In a way, I supposed he was right. Things had a way of creeping back up on you, even after they were long over. What had just happened with us was proof of that.

 

Sara Withers wasn’t dead, but her ghost was certainly haunting Tom.

 

And now, she was haunting me.

 

 

 

 

 

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So?? Thoughts?? I'm trying to drop some foreshadowing, but I want to know what you guys think! Also I have links to pictures of Gemma's dress, which I'm totally not ashamed to admit that I'd wear, if y'all would like to see that! I hope these chapters are long enough, I'm trying not to make y'all feel cheated by waiting for updates haha.


	5. Crossed Wires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is a little shorter than the others, and I'm sorry if that's disappointing! I'm trying to do a chapter or two a week, so the next installment should be out before too long. *Rubs my devious little hands together* I hope you're enjoying the story thus far!

“I want to go hiking.”

 

 

“You? Hiking?” Thomas said, exhaling smoke out of his nostrils. I wanted to be offended at the humor in his voice, but I couldn’t. Hiking was probably the last thing anyone expected me to do, let alone suggest as an activity. I wasn’t particularly coordinated, so I’d never been one for outdoor sports. My talents lay less in the physical—though if Thomas was in a particularly dirty mood, he would have disagreed heartily. 

 

 

“Yeah, me, hiking.” I retorted, grabbing the joint out of his hand. “Occasionally I too like to experience the wild untamed beauty of nature.” Thomas snorted loudly, but said nothing, for which I was grateful. I was a city girl—I’d only ever seen people hike in movies. The closest I had ever gotten was walking from the Seaport to the lower East side, and although I’d certainly felt accomplished afterward, it wasn’t something I wanted to do all the time. We were outside on the back patio of my rental cabin, and I was seated firmly in Thomas’ lap, where he’d put me twenty minutes ago, and hadn’t moved since.“Is it _that_ hard to imagine?”

 

“Yes, actually,” He said, chuckling. The deep sound rumbled comfortingly against my back as we watched the sun creep slowly higher into the sky. 

 

 

“Are you saying that because I’m fat?” I said with mock indignation. In response, Thomas pinched my ass, and I squeaked, rubbing the sore spot he’d left behind.

 

“You’re _not_ fat. And no, I’m saying it because I watched you take a nap after doing an hour of grocery shopping yesterday.”

 

“Hey! I’m on vacation! I can sleep when I want to.” I snapped. It was weird, even for me, but I _did_ actually want to go. I had to admit, Alaska was growing on me. “I was going to ask Chris, I know he hikes.”

 

“Just bring a dog. It’ll be just as happy to be outside, and the conversation would be better.”

 

The scathing note in Thomas’ voice made me wince. I’d forgotten how much they disliked each other. It seemed deeper than a spurned ex, but I didn’t know the full story, and wasn’t sure how I’d react to the news. One of the good things about New York was that unless you were a celebrity, no one knew who you were. There was anonymity in your social faux pas. But in small towns like Blumfield, everything that happened where anyone could see it could become the next topic of conversation at every dinner table. I wondered if this was another thing like Sara—where everyone knew, and had talked about it until it was old news. 

 

“Why do you hate each other so much?” I asked, working hard to keep my voice casual.

 

“Oh, you mean _aside_ from the fact that I knocked up his childhood sweetheart?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but I ignored it. “I own the company he works for. Technically I’m a board member.”

 

My jaw dropped, and I wriggled in his lap to stare at him. “ _You_? _You’re_ a board member of… whatever marketing firm Chris works for?” I sputtered. “B-but you’re never even fucking there!” 

 

“I’m the boss. I don’t ever have to be there.” He said, shrugging. 

 

“That still doesn’t explain why _you_ don’t like _him._ ”

 

“I don’t like anyone.”

 

“Thomas.” He sighed when I said his name. He was quiet for a few minutes, and then finally spoke, rolling his eyes. 

 

“I don’t like his interest in you,” He admitted, and I unsuccessfully tried to keep the self-satisfied grin off my face. Thomas managed somehow to look even more pissed off. “Of course you fucking think it’s funny.”

 

“It is.”

 

“You’re a bitch,” he growled, leaning forward to place a hard bite on the exposed skin of my collar bone. I whined, squirming. 

 

“You like it.”

 

He grunted noncommittally, but I knew he did. The couch blanket—which had become my outside blanket, considering how often we sat out here, and how cold I always was—slid a little down my back and I shivered at the cool afternoon air. HIs hands crept underneath the hem of the blanket, finding my jean clad ass and squeezing, hard. Either I was getting used to his roughness, or he was treating me gentler. I wasn’t foolish enough to suspect the latter. 

 

Two hours later, Tom had had me twice. Once on the floor of the living room with the patio door open, because he’d been too high and impatient to close it—he’d wanted to fuck me on the blanket outside, but I’d staunchly refused, and he’d carried me inside and immediately wrestled me to the ground, intent on divesting me of my, in his words, “sinfully tight jeans.”

 

And then again in the shower afterward, until I came, screaming and sobbing with his finger in my ass. That had been my most surprising orgasm yet—mainly because in every previous sexual encounter, I’d staunchly refused entrance _back there_. But I couldn’t say no when Thomas asked me, his voice sweet like honey. 

 

We were laying on the couch now, flipping through channels. My head was in his lap, and I was wearing an over sized sweater and my underwear, not having bothered to put on anything more. Thomas was in lounge pants with no shirt, his hand buried in my thick hair, his nails gently grazing my scalp.

 

“We could always go back to my place,” he groused when we couldn’t find anything worthwhile to watch. “Plus my wifi’s faster.”

 

“I’m not moving,” I replied, looking up at him. “Besides, I have Netflix too.” 

 

 

“On your computer,” he retorted. I ignored his complaints as I got up, and wandered to the bedroom to retrieve my laptop. I opened it, and a notification popped up, I had emails. I took a moment to check them, scrolling through. There was one from my boss, who had always been uncomfortably informal with me.

 

 

_Hey Gemma! Just checking in. You’re due back on the 23rd, just so you don’t forget. Really missing you here at work, so bring us back something nice from Alaska! Just a heads up: you’re going to be reassigned to current events for roughly two months on your return. Too much going on for Op-Ed. See you soon, Gem!_

 

I hated working current events, but it wasn’t a beat I hadn’t walked before. It just meant I would have to watch a _lot_ of news. The next one was from my airline, reminding me that my flight was in four days. 

 

I swallowed thickly. I hadn’t forgotten that my time here was limited, but I’d been ignoring it. I didn’t want to acknowledge that whatever I was building, all the relationships I’d formed, not just with Thomas, but with _everyone_ , were temporary. I didn’t have many friends at home; I was always working. This was just accrued vacation time; I had to return to my real life, with my real bills, and my rent, which was going to need paying next month. 

 

“I came to see if you needed help, since you’ve been gone ten minutes.” Thomas said dryly from the doorway. I looked up in surprise—I hadn’t even heard him. I grinned in apology.

 

“Sorry. I was checking my email.” I hurriedly closed the tab.

 

I still had time.

 

 

—

 

 

“Get up.”

 

Thomas’ voice floated to me through the veil of sleep, and I groaned, turning over. I felt him pull the blankets off of me, and I came awake fully, kicking at him.

 

“What the fuck?” I murmured, my voice hoarse from sleep. “It’s not even light yet.”

 

“We have to leave soon,” Thomas said, grabbing my arm and pulling gently. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss it.”

 

“Miss what?” I said petulantly, sitting up. “I’m fuckin’ sleepy, Thomas.”

 

“We’re going hiking. Go get your sneakers.” 

 

I groaned, rolling over in the bed until I felt him tug me again.

 

“When did you have time to plan any of this stuff?”

 

“You sleep heavy.” 

 

That appeared to be the only clarification I was going to get, so I slid out of bed miserably and shambled to the shower, where Thomas rushed me and told me again, that we were in danger of missing “it”. We drove out of town, in the opposite direction of the city, further out into the wilderness. I had forced him to let me make coffee, after an angry outburst with tired tears and not a few curses. After a couple of miles, there was a little beaten down sign for a campground, which probably wasn’t well tended considering how thinly stretched government resources tended to be up here. 

 

I was right, and there weren’t any other cars, not even a security guard. Thomas didn’t seem too concerned by it, and he shut off the car, exiting into the early morning darkness. I was loathe to follow him, but it wasn’t completely dark out, and as long as he was close to me, my anxiety would be tolerable.

 

“When I said I wanted to go hiking, I meant during the day,” I grumbled, following him through the dirt parking lot. Tom didn’t respond, and merely slowed down to make sure I could keep pace with his enormously long legs. I was pissy about being woken up early, but there was a beauty in the woods at this dusky hour, I had to admit. Everything was gently shaded with blue light, and the cold grass crunched under our feet as we walked. We came to a rock face, with a crude set of steps carved into it. I looked up at Tom incredulously. He couldn’t mean for me to go up there. It was a little slippery from dew, and I was more than a little worried about falling—I had bad balance at the best of times, and I’d been woken up before I was ready to come here. 

 

“After you.”

 

I stepped up gingerly, resting my gloved hands on the cold stone for balance, until I’d reached the top, where thankfully there was a guard rail. I hadn’t realized the trail was gracefully sloping upward as we walked, but there was no other explanation for how high up we were. The stairs let out onto a natural stone ledge, which overlooked the forest. Mist was rising off of the tree tops, and the sky was just beginning to lighten.

 

_We’ll miss it._

 

He was talking about the sunrise. Thomas didn’t do anything sappy like hold my hand, or tell me he loved me, which I never would have believed anyway, because I didn’t love him either. He simply stood beside me and told me to look. We were sharing this moment together, and it was weirdly special. The treelined horizon lightened to purple, then pink and orange as the sun rose higher, the dawn reaching over the landscape with bright fingers. 

 

I was glad he’d woken me up.

 

Once the sun was mostly risen in the sky, the spell between us was broken, and I felt like I could speak again. He’d been right—I’d bitched. But I’d been right too, I’d also thoroughly enjoyed my hike. Even if it _was_ at sub-zero temperatures before dawn. We made our way back to the car, and it was like I was seeing the trail with new eyes. Everything was different in the daylight, and if I’d have come up here on my own, I certainly would have gotten lost. 

 

“Thanks. For bringing me.”

 

“You said you wanted to.” Thomas replied gruffly, and I smiled in spite of myself. It was his way of showing me he was listening, and I was shocked at the sweetness of the gesture.

 

_The tin man has a heart, after all._

 

“Wipe your nose, Gemma. It’s running.”

 

—

 

We went back to my place, but only long enough for me to grab a fresh pair of underwear and something to sleep in, because Thomas had had enough of what he’d scathingly called “slumming it” at my two star hovel. I sighed and rolled my eyes. This was a man who had a remote controlled fireplace, and a smart television that could speak _back_ to you. Of course my rinky dink rental wasn’t up to his standards.

 

I hesitated in the doorway—I hadn’t been back here since before we’d stopped talking, and I wasn’t sure if he expected me to use the guest bedroom. I hadn’t at his apartment in Anchorage, and I didn’t want to now. I wasn’t sure what made me so averse; it was a toss up between his desire to keep me out, and the fact that I no longer considered myself a guest in his home. 

 

I turned down the hallway opposite the kitchen and headed for the master bedroom. I’d never been in here before, and it was even better than his room in the flat. The bed was huge, with a sleek frosted glass headboard, and black wooden paneling, and to the left of it, the entire wall was clear glass, looking out behind the house. Across from it was another television—which I suspected was only there for show, as Thomas preferred to watch everything in the living room. He liked to keep his spaces separate, another thing about him I’d come to notice. 

 

There was a huge walk in closet and a bathroom with a shower luxurious enough to make me cry. The two person whirlpool tub was smaller than the one in the bathroom in Anchorage, but it was still larger than the one I had in my tiny apartment at home. The shower, situated directly behind it, had one of those massive flat shower heads, where the water fell like rain. 

 

“Having fun?”

 

I jumped, and turned, glaring at Thomas’ lanky outline in the doorway. “Why do you sneak around like that?”

 

“I’m not sneaking.” he said. “You on the other hand…”

 

“I’m not! I’m exploring. You never… you never let me in here before,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. I’d half expected him to tell me to move my shit to the guest room, but he didn’t, and I sat on the bed, watching him. He rooted around in his pocket for a moment, before pulling out a half smoked joint, and sat next to me on the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles. “I thought you didn’t smoke inside.”

 

“Cigarettes.”

 

He lit it, and offered it to me, and I took it, inhaling. “Why are you always trying to get me high?” I said with mock indignation, and he chuckled.

 

“I don’t have to try very hard,” He quipped, taking it back from me when I offered it. “You seem to get there all on your own.” 

 

I snorted. “Where do you even… I dunno, _get_ all this weed from up here?” I asked. “What, do you have a grow house in the basement?” I said, only half kidding. Thomas snorted, smoke leaking out of his nostrils in cloudy tendrils. 

 

“I’m a triple threat. Business man, local terror, drug lord.” he said hoarsely, and I erupted with laughter. It wasn’t hard to picture Tom breaking someone’s fingers for being late on a payment. “Anchorage,” he said after a moment, and I nodded. That was probably where everyone got their weed up here. I’d have to ask Rob about his own source—he’d never shared that information with me either.

 

We laid on the bed, chatting amicably, smoking. After a little while, Thomas stood up, stretching. “Lets move.” I knew where he was going—the living room, to turn on the television. 

 

“Only if I get to choose what we watch.”

 

“Up.”

 

I followed him to the sofa, where I deliberately spread across it, taking up all of the space. He didn’t seem to mind, and settled himself on the floor, in front of the coffee table, where he began to roll another joint. I watched him break up the weed with interest—I didn’t know how to roll. If I smoked at home at all—which was rare if I was alone—I only ever did so out of the old pipe my sister had asked me to keep safe for her, and had never come back to my apartment to retrieve. 

 

“I don’t know how to do that,” I said, jerking my chin at the table, where his fingers were working steadily. “How did you learn?”

 

Thomas shrugged, licking the tip of the paper to close it off. “I taught myself.” He offered it to me, and I lit it, watching him roll one for himself. I raised an eyebrow. 

 

“All for me?”

 

He nodded. I kept the smirk off of my face, and reached for the remote. I tried to get to it before him, but failed, and he snatched it, switching on the television. “No fair.”

 

“I rolled you a joint.”

 

He seemed to think this was a fair trade, and I didn’t feel like arguing with him about it, not really. I knew Thomas had cable, but for some reason, like at my place, he was averse to looking for something to watch. He headed straight for the streaming services, and went into his recently watched, selecting _The Simpsons_ from the queue. 

 

“I hope they don’t drug test me when I get back to work, I said absently, as Thomas’ fingers traced patterns on my jean clad thigh. 

 

“Where do you work?”

 

I realized that Thomas didn’t know as much about me as I thought he did. “I work at the Sunburst, that newspaper in New York. I write for them.” He’d known I was something of a journalist/reporter, but I hadn’t told him exactly where I worked. “Usually Op-Ed, but I’m being moved to current events when I get back.” 

 

“When do you go back?” He asked, and I felt lead settle into my belly. I was leaving in three days—really two, considering how late into the day it was—and I hadn’t really had that conversation with him. Scarlett was pushing me to have another little party at the cabin, to give everyone a chance to see me before my flight. I’d been toying with the idea of inviting Thomas, but I was nervous—Chris would certainly be there, and I didn’t want them to beat each other bloody.

 

That would certainly put a damper on _any_ festivities. 

 

“Monday.”

 

It was silent between us for a few minutes, and I stared at the side of his face as he thought. Tom was unreadable at the best of times, especially if I couldn’t see his eyes. I had no way of knowing what he was thinking or how he felt unless he communicated it to me. Anxiety began to set in, and I bit my lip, reminding myself not to overthink this. 

 

“That’s soon.” he said quietly, more to himself than to me. This was a side of him I hadn’t seen before, and I wasn’t used to it. I’d thought Thomas only had two settings—douche, and slightly less annoying douche. “Uncertain” wasn’t a word I associated with him. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

I could barely hear the sound of the television over my own breathing; the antics of the characters on screen had become secondary to our conversation. I was surprised he seemed to be… uncomfortable with my leaving. I had to admit—I liked Thomas. I hadn’t been expecting to feel conflicted about returning to my life, this was _vacation_. He seemed to swallow his emotions then, the carefree mask slipping back onto his face as he grinned at me. The expression didn’t reach his eyes.

 

“Glad I could make it memorable for you.”

 

—

 

Later that evening, I was sitting on Tom’s bed, rubbing lotion into my skin after my shower. Thomas had had to respond to a couple of emails for work, so I’d left him to his own devices. I also figured he needed some time by himself—he was a grown man, he didn’t need me hanging off of him at every moment. I’d told him I would cook dinner, and I needed to get started before it got too late. I rubbed the small of my back, before reaching behind me to stretch out the kinks. I was probably going to get my period soon, and I was glad I’d come to Alaska prepared. 

 

I sighed, before reaching for my bra, intending to head to the kitchen and cook.

 

“Don’t.”

 

I turned my head, and saw Thomas standing in the hallway, watching me with unabashed lust written all over his face. I felt my neck get hot, and I swallowed thickly. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there.

 

“You have a creepy habit of watching me,” I said, keeping my back to him. I could hear him cross the room with heavy steps, and come to stop just behind me. “I don’t think it’s healthy.”

 

“Mm,” he intoned, indicating he wasn’t really listening to anything that was coming out of my mouth. His hands found my hips, his cool fingertips stroking my skin. Thomas leaned down until his lips were next to my ear, barely touching me. 

 

“Touch yourself for me, Gemma.”

 

I blanched at the request. I was certainly _not_ a prude, but there were certain things I just… didn’t do.“I… I was going to cook dinner,” I stammered, my brain suddenly empty of anything useful or relevant. I felt his laugh rather than hearing it; vibrating through my back. I frowned, and turned, facing him. 

 

“You’ve never done that before?” he asked, genuine surprise coloring his voice. “As much as you like to show off, I’m surprised,” he said lowly, his eyes locked on mine. I huffed, shoving against his solid chest.

 

“I do _not_ like to show off.”

 

“That dress you peeled off the other night disagrees with you. Don’t make me punish you, Gemma.” He growled, and I felt myself clench at _that_ tone of voice. 

 

“You’re not going to laugh at me?” I said softly, hating how insecure I sounded. 

 

“I won’t laugh at you, baby girl. I want to see how you touch that pretty pussy.” I throbbed. Despite my discomfort, I couldn’t deny that I was aroused by his request. “Show daddy what a good girl you are.”

 

I tried to gather my courage as he directed me towards the chase lounge on the other side of the room. I slid off my panties before sitting down, and bringing my knees to my chest, partially revealing my moist slit. Thomas dropped to his knees in front of me, watching. My heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest, and I swallowed heavily. 

 

“Let daddy see,” he breathed, and slowly I slid my knees apart, exposing myself fully. His nostrils flared. I closed my eyes, palming my own breasts. It felt a little strange to be doing this in front of him, and I couldn’t help the flush of shame that flooded me. I pinched at my nipples, twisting them before tugging on my barbells. I trailed one of my hands down my stomach to my pussy, where I began sliding one of my fingers through my surprisingly wet folds. 

 

_This is so embarrassing, how can I be so wet from this?_ I thought to myself, cracking one eye. Thomas wasn’t looking at my face, so I could get away with studying him with minimal consequence. His eyes were locked onto my hand, his lips slightly parted, and breathing heavy. This spurred me on, and I used two fingers to part myself, while a third found my clit, massaging it in small circles. Thomas licked his lips, and I couldn’t help the little moan that escaped my throat. 

 

“Good girl,” he breathed. “You’re so wet, Gemma, your pussy is so swollen. You want me in there, don’t you baby?” His words coaxed a fresh wave of slick from my throbbing center, and he smirked at me, his eyes meeting mine. I felt my face go hot, but I couldn’t say anything. I squeezed my breasts again, before returning to my dripping pussy, and he leaned closer, his breath ghosting over my moist flesh. “You’re getting off on me watching you, aren’t you, little girl?” His voice was a feral growl now, and I knew he was holding himself back from tearing my hands away and plunging his cock into me as deep as it would go. “Only _sluts_ like being watched like this, Gemma.”

 

I was far beyond being upset at the things he said to me when we were fucking—I liked them, though I’d never admit it when he wasn’t inside me. I didn’t have a chance to respond before he leaned forward, firmly attaching his mouth to my pussy, his teeth finding my clit and nibbling gently, while his fingers slid smoothly into my cunt, which contracted around them like a vise. I wasn’t prepared for the sensation, and cried out, my hips jerking. I felt him smirk against me as he curled his fingers inside me, seeking that spot that made me see white. 

 

“I can barely fit two fingers, Gemma,” he said hotly, his lips moving against me as I shuddered. “I don’t even know how my cock fits in you.” Thomas scissored his fingers and another cry ripped itself from my throat. I ground myself against his hand, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Tell daddy what you need,Gemma.”

 

“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Please, daddy.” He smirked down at me. 

 

“Say it.”

 

“Please fuck me,” I said lowly, and he pretended not to hear me, slowing his fingers until he was barely moving inside of me, his other hand holding my hip so I couldn’t force them in and out of my pussy. 

 

“Daddy can’t hear you, pet.”

 

“Please fuck me!” I cried, and he released me, grinding his fingers against my clit, before practically tearing his pants off. He was already hard, the head of his cock weeping precum. All coherent thoughts disappeared from my head as he positioned himself in front of me, the tip of his dick pressing into my slick opening. Thomas slid in in one smooth thrust, burying himself inside of me. The scream slipped out before I could stop it and I grasped his shoulders. 

 

“Daddy!”

 

“That’s it, baby,” he said, grinding himself into me. I felt so full, and pleasure was rocketing up my spine, making me gasp and press myself against him, seeking more. 

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I panted, my head lolling onto the back of the couch. 

 

“What have I told you about that mouth, Gemma?” he groaned, my name falling from his lips like a prayer. I barely had time to register that he was pulling out of me and pressing my back to the couch before he was inside of me again, even deeper than before. I cried out, locking my legs around his hips. He rutted into me until I was barely aware, his name falling from my lips amidst the curses I couldn’t seem to stem. His cock was rubbing against my cervix, and I convulsed around him, orgasming without warning. 

 

“I’m cumming,” I sobbed, raking my nails down his back. Thomas growled, his hands pressing hard enough into my hips to leave bruises. 

 

“Good girl, fuck, come all over daddy’s cock,” he grunted, jerking inside me as I clamped down on him, gasping. He groaned, his shoulders shaking as he emptied himself into my spasming pussy, dropping to his elbows, resting his weight on me. I shuddered, the aftershocks of my orgasm still running through me. We stayed like that for a few minutes, with him softening inside me, but unwilling to pull out. Tom’s head was pressed into the crook of my neck, and I felt him press a surprisingly soft kiss to my shoulder. The only time we’d kissed was while we were fucking, and for once, I was glad about it. 

 

If he’d kissed my mouth that tenderly, I knew I’d be tempted to stay. 

 

 

 

—

 

 

“Quit it, I’m trying to get ready,” I said irritatedly, slapping Thomas’ hands away from me as I dressed. I’d convinced him to take me back to my rental so that I could follow Scarlett’s suggestion, and have a little get together. Thomas had come reluctantly, though I hadn’t specifically invited him. I wanted him to stay, though, so I didn’t complain when he came inside instead of pulling off in his massive truck. 

 

I’d run to the grocery store while he was in the shower, picking up snacks and drinks. I could tell Tom was being touchy because he knew Chris was coming; he was almost like an animal, wanting to put his scent all over me before other prospective males came around. 

 

I pulled my hair up into a pineapple, teasing my kinky curls until they were the shape I wanted. 

 

“I love your hair,” he commented from the bathroom doorway, where I’d evaded his advances again. I could see him watching me apply light makeup in the mirror. I knew he did—any time Thomas thought he could get away with playing in my thick curls, he did so, almost always tangling it in his fingers. I didn’t mind too much, but today I was going for a look other than “thoroughly fucked strumpet”, so I slapped his hands away from me when he reached again. 

 

“I can tell,” I said amusedly, wiggling past him and out into the hallway, heading for the kitchen. My phone buzzed—everyone would be here soon. Rob had added Joy onto the group chat, and she said she was bringing brownies. I grinned—her candy had been great, and I figured these would be just as delicious. Maybe I could even finagle some into my luggage when I left tomorrow—no use letting them go to waste. I peeked outside, checking the weather. It was supposed to rain, but the downpour hadn’t started yet. The sky looked ominous and gray, making it seem even colder outside. Chris had suggested another bonfire, but I didn’t feel like racing to bring everything inside when the rain finally decided to fall. I’d compromised, setting up the folding chairs he’d seemed keen on leaving here, so that people could sit outside if they wanted. 

 

I rubbed my neck absently, my fingers tracing over the still fading bruise Thomas had left there. The doorbell rang, and I rushed to answer it, while Thomas leaned against the kitchen counter, looking on. I’d expected Scarlett to be the first to arrive, and I was right. She bustled in, chattering as soon as she saw me. 

 

 

“Gem! I brought booze and chips,” she said, rushing past me. “No jello shots this time, I ran out of—holy fuck,” Scarlett stopped short when she saw Thomas leaned up in my kitchen, watching her cooly. “Hi.” She looked confusedly between the two of us for a moment, before quietly putting her bags down on the kitchen table. 

 

He nodded his head in greeting. “Hello, Scarlett.” We all stood awkwardly in the kitchen for a moment, before I took the lead. 

 

“So no jello shots?”

 

“No, I ran out of jello making the last batch,” she quipped, beginning to unpack the grocery bags. If it was awkward now, I didn’t want to see what it would be like when Chris arrived. “And I brought those soft cookies you like from the store,” Scarlett added, and I groaned. That was all I needed this evening, to get baked and eat absolutely everything in sight. 

 

“Take them back,” I groaned, looking longingly at the box. “Before I eat them.”

 

“It’s my gift to you,” she said with an exaggerated hand flourish. “Since we don’t know when you’ll be gracing us with your presence again.” Thomas mumbled something and excused himself to the living room, leaving Scarlett and I alone in the kitchen. As soon as she thought he was out of earshot, she whirled on me.

 

“What. The. Fuck.” she whispered furiously, grasping my shoulders. “I thought you said it wasn’t a ‘thing’?” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. I rolled my eyes. “Not that I care if it is. I don’t. I just… he’s not… I don’t know that he’s the right… type,” she finished, obviously trying to avoid calling him every single bad word she knew. I didn’t know everything about him to be sure—I didn’t know anything much, really—but I doubted his history with Scarlett was as… colorful as his past with Chris. No doubt her opinion had been heavily informed by the latter as well, something I couldn’t blame her for. It was _hard_ to look past Thomas’ assholish exterior, especially because he tried so hard to keep everyone from doing so. 

 

“I’m a grown woman, and I’m getting on a flight tomorrow night,” I retorted, with a little more venom than I’d meant to. “I’ll fuck who I want, thank you very much.” 

 

“I never said you couldn’t!” Scarlett replied defensively, and I relented. “Look, I’m just… you’re my friend. I don’t want you to get hurt,” she said, and I nodded. We’d bonded fairly tightly over the past few weeks, and I knew I was going to miss her when I left. There was something about her relentless energy that I’d come to appreciate, and I wasn’t sure who would fill the hole she’d leave in my life. I’d gotten rather used to her incessant texting, silly pictures, and frank openness—I was leaving more people behind than just Tom.

 

“I know,” I said softly, and she frowned.

 

“Don’t get all soft on me.” 

 

I poked my belly and looked up at her. “I’m already soft.”

 

When Thomas reentered the kitchen, that was how he found us, practically sobbing with laughter, fighting to stay upright. I wiped tears from my eyes before looking at him, still grinning. 

 

“I’m not sure I want to know,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting in it, his long legs stretched out in front of him.“I thought I was invited to a party.” Thomas replied dryly, gesturing between the two of us. “I’m fairly sure this is the loosest definition of the word.”

 

“Well who were you expecting, the Mayor?” Scarlett snapped back, and I saw Thomas raise his eyebrow slightly. Scarlett certainly wasn’t going to let him walk all over her. I doubted they’d spent any real time together past their initial interactions all those years ago, and then everything with Sara had created an awkward barrier between them. Scarlett and Thomas probably would have been good friends, if not for that. It was probably the same with Chris too. 

 

“Possibly. Gemma told me the Obamas would be here.”

 

I snorted. “Yeah. All black people know each other; I just dialed him up and asked him and Michelle to fly out to our weed and booze party out here in the boonies. They’ll be here in an hour,” I replied sarcastically, punching his shoulder. “Allie said she’d be late, but Chris Rob and Joy should be here soon.” I watched Tom’s face for signs of discomfort, but he hid them well. He already knew Chris was coming, but I wanted to make sure they wouldn’t end up drunkenly destroying the house in a brawl over 10 years of pent up frustrations. 

 

Rob and Joy were the next to arrive. “Party people! We’re here with the goodies, and I’m not talking about Joy’s tits,” he called from the entryway, and I couldn’t help but shake my head. I wasn’t sure how Joy managed to put up with him consistently, but they were clearly a match made in stoner heaven. Joy came into the kitchen, carrying a tray of brownies, covered in star and heart sprinkles. She barely spared Tom a passing glance—either she didn’t know who he was, or didn’t care. Rob came in behind her, and stopped short.

 

“What’s he doing here?” he blurted, and I suspected he’d probably pilfered a few of Joy’s brownies before they even left the house. 

 

“He was invited,” Thomas said dryly, before inclining his head slightly in greeting. “Robert.”

 

“Sorry. It’s just you’re like a hermit up there.” Rob replied, shrugging. “So did you catch any charges beating up that asshole?” He asked, and just like that, Thomas was—somewhat awkwardly—involved in the evening’s festivities. I chatted with Joy and Scarlett while we finished setting up, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He was relaxed against the chair, his arm slung over the back, an easy expression on his face. 

 

“Gemma.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I asked you a question.”

 

I felt my cheeks burn. I’d been too busy watching Thomas, and had effectively faded from the conversation. Joy looked at me pointedly before a knowing smirk found it’s way to her lips. “Sorry. What did you say?”

 

“I asked if you guys were ready to get started. I brought my speakers,” She said, hoisting the plate of brownies. As we moved towards the living room, there was a knock at the door. I headed that way instead, and opened it to reveal Allie, whose hair was still wet from the shower she’d probably rushed through after work. 

 

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, grinning apologetically. Chris was the only one missing. I thought about texting him myself, but declined. Chris was an adult—he didn’t have to go anywhere he didn’t want to, though I _was_ miffed I wouldn’t get to see him once more before I left. 

 

“It’s okay,” I waved her inside, where Scarlett was already blasting music I hadn’t approved, and Thomas and Rob were standing just on the patio out back, smoking. I settled myself on the couch, grabbing a brownie from the plate. 

 

“Careful! Don’t eat more than like.. two.” Joy said, waving to catch my attention. “Even Rob can only have three. And I was scared I’d have to take him to the hospital, so play it safe.”

 

“ _Rob_ got too high?” I asked incredulously, glancing at the brown haired man outside. “How is that even possible?” Joy shrugged, laughing. Thomas and Rob came back inside, just as Scarlett was demanding that we start a drinking game. Somehow we’d all abandoned the couch in favor of sitting on the floor around the coffee table, and I wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened. I was waiting for the edible to hit me, and I figured I had another good 30 minutes before I began to feel anything at all.

 

“What are the rules, oh great party mistress?” Rob said, his voice full of mocking reverence. 

 

“You pick a person, ask a question. If they get it right, you drink. They get it wrong, they drink. Simple.” She replied, before pouring straight vodka into the shot glasses we’d helped her set up on the coffee table. 

 

“I’ll start,” I said, grinning. 

 

“Pick your victim,” Allie said, and I smirked. 

 

“Joy.”

 

She grinned back at me, and we both picked up our glasses. “What’s my middle name?”

 

She groaned. “Oh come on, there’s no way I’d know that. I didn’t even know you had one.”

 

“Guess.”

 

Joy looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugged. “Morris?”

 

“Grace.”

 

Joy downed the shot, shuddering at the taste of the liquor. Next up was Rob, who of course, selected me. 

 

“What year was Marvel Comics founded?” he asked, smirking, knowing I had no clue. “Don’t even answer, just drink,” he said snidely as I reached for my shot. 

 

“I don’t know,” I agreed, shooting him a glare. “Because I’m not a huge fucking nerd.”

 

“It’s 1939, in case you were wondering.”

 

“Fuck off,” I retorted, before gulping it down. The alcohol burned it’s way down my throat and settled warmly in my belly. I was starting to feel the effects of Joy’s edibles now, a fuzzy, giggly feeling was spreading through me, making me talkative and bubbly. Thomas was up next, and I watched him with a grin.

 

“Scarlett.” 

 

She groaned, grabbing a shot. “Where was _Jaws_ filmed?” He asked, and I saw her narrow her eyes, thinking. Scarlett was nothing if not competitive. 

 

“Martha’s Vineyard! Drink, asshole!” she cried, slamming her hands down on the table, shaking it. I burst out laughing—clearly her brownie was starting to kick in too. Thomas frowned, but took his shot without complaint; he didn’t even blink as the alcohol worked it’s way down his throat to join the beers he’d already had with Rob. I found myself wondering what drunk Tom was like. If he was anything like high Tom, he was perpetually horny and even more entitled.

 

We’d gone around a few more times, and everyone was well on their way to the comforting realm of drunkenness when the doorbell rang.I instructed everyone to keep playing without me while I answered it. I rose from the table and steadied myself. I’d had more to drink than I realized, and the muddiness of the high was making my coordination even worse. I made my way over to the front door, where Chris was standing awkwardly on the landing, rubbing the back of his neck apologetically. I was surprised to see him, I’d assumed he wasn’t going to show. Everyone else had gotten there hours before. 

 

“Chris!”

 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said lowly. I shrugged.

 

“I’m happy to see you,” I replied, hoping I sounded genuine. “Thomas is here,” I blurted, and he nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re my friend and I wanted you to come,” I said, pulling him over the threshold. I leaned heavily on him as we made our way through the kitchen. 

 

“Not even the Wicked Witch of the West could keep me away,” he said dramatically. 

 

“Wouldn’t he be the Wicked Witch of the North?” I replied, and he laughed.

 

“Come get a brownie. And a drink. A lot of drinks. You have to catch up.”

 

Either everyone was too drunk to notice, or they were all so engrossed in the game that they didn’t notice the tension settle over the room when Chris entered. He declined to join Tom and Rob on the couch, and instead sat between Allie and I, and we continued the game. 

 

“Chris. What were Marie Antoinette’s last words?” Rob asked, his eyes heavily lidded. 

 

“Let them eat cake?” Chris ventured, and in true Rob fashion, he held out his thumb and pointed it downwards, and Chris sighed, grabbing a drink from the table and downing it. 

 

“‘ _Excuse me, Sir, I didn’t mean to do it’._ Because she stepped on the executioner’s foot!” We all found this immensely funny, and I doubled over with laughter. When I looked up, Thomas was staring at me, his expression tense. We went around a few more times, before I stepped outside to light the goodbye blunt that Rob had rolled for me. Scarlett followed, claiming I was going to need help finishing it. We closed the patio door behind us, silencing the sound of music and laughter. 

 

“You’re lucky they haven’t killed each other,” she said, swaying slightly on her feet as I passed the blunt to her, coughing a bit.

 

“Yeah. I know.”

 

I peered in through the glass. Thomas had been having a good time earlier, but now he’d returned to his old self, declining to speak unless spoken to, brooding as he drank. In truth, I had _never_ seen him drink this much, and though he wasn’t displaying too many signs of inebriation, I could tell he was getting there. He snatched a shot from the coffee table and downed it, before taking another. 

 

When we returned from our stint outside, the sky broke open, flooding the patio where we’d just been standing, and beating loudly against the roof. Joy and Rob were cuddled up on the couch, listening to a tipsy Chris talk animatedly about something, while Allie and Scarlett each munched on another brownie. Thomas wasn’t in the living room with everyone else; while I’d been talking to Scarlett, he must have slipped away, off to kill the mood somewhere else. I sighed, and put the remains of the blunt in the ashtray we’d brought inside before heading off to find him. 

 

Thomas was in my bedroom, sitting on the bed, staring out the window. 

 

“Hey. You okay?” I said, coming to sit next to him. 

 

“Fine.” he replied shortly, his tone biting. “Go back to your _friends_.” I stopped myself from snapping back at him, though I desperately wanted to. I was leaving tomorrow, I was trying to have a good time, and he couldn’t even let me do that without getting selfish and moody. 

 

“Don’t do this,” I said, reaching for him. Thomas pushed my hand away, and sneered at me, his eyes bloodshot from the weed and the alcohol. “We were having a really good time.” I said cajolingly, and motioned toward the doorway. 

 

“Do what? You’re leaving tomorrow.” He said, his voice thick with anger. “You can go have a _really good time_ with someone else.”

 

I felt the beginnings of ire bubbling in my chest. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he was doing this, and I wasn’t about to let it go.

 

“You knew I had to leave,” I said quietly, which seemed to enrage him all the more. I didn’t know why he was upset—aside from the fact that Chris was there. He was taking out his frustrations on me, and I wasn’t going to let it slide this time. “And you knew Chris was coming.”

 

“Fuck this,” he said suddenly, rising from the bed and striding towards the doorway. 

 

“Thomas stop!” I cried, but he ignored me, stomping down the hallway, before throwing open the front door and heading out into the rain. I followed him, shivering as the icy droplets pelted my skin. The rain was falling even harder now, and I could barely see the houses across the street through the deluge. It was freezing outside, and the rain drops felt like sharp knives against any bit of exposed skin.

 

“Fucking stop!” I grabbed at his arm, and he wrenched himself away from me, throwing me off balance. I fell forward, skinning the palms of my hands against the concrete. “This isn’t fucking fair and you know it’s not!” I shouted to be heard over the downpour, and he finally turned around, his face stony and unreadable. 

 

“You’re leaving me, Gemma!” he yelled, and I was surprised at his ferocity. Thomas was _always_ cool and collected, he never lost his temper, and as angry as we’d been at each other over the past few weeks, he’d never shouted at me. I couldn’t help but cower as he came towards me, and he stopped, seeing my reaction. “You’re leaving me.” he said again, softer, reaching to help me up. I ignored his outstretched hand, and got up on my own. He reached for me again, and though adrenaline was pumping through me from our argument, I was still inebriated. My reaction time was too slow, and though I tried to pull away, he enveloped me in his cold arms before I could angrily pull away. 

 

“This was only a vacation, Tom.” I said softly, knowing he heard me. “My time is up.” We stood there in the freezing rain in silence until he spoke again. 

 

“You’re a real bitch, Gemma.” He said softly, and for the first time since he’d stormed off, there was no malice in his tone. “You’re nosy, and loud, and you curse like a damn sailor.”

 

“And you’re an asshole,” I mumbled against his chest, frowning at the little laugh he let out. 

 

“We don’t have any goddamn business doing anything but fucking.” Thomas replied, and I felt my chest tighten at his admission. It was true—we were on total opposite ends of the spectrum. I liked rebels, but Thomas took the cake—I hated how he spoke to me half the time, and I hated how he acted as though he was smarter than I was. 

 

But what I hated most of all was how much I wanted him in spite of all those things. I hated how much I liked making him laugh, I hated how he rolled me spliffs when I didn’t ask for them, I hated how he played in my hair and kissed my neck.

 

I hated that I didn’t hate him at all. 

 

_“But_ _god fucking damn if I don’t want you to stay.”_

 

I shoved myself away from him, wild eyed. He let me go this time, watching as I backed away. “What the fuck did you just say, Thomas?” I gasped, my breath ragged. For the first time, his face was completely open. He was as conflicted as I was, uncertainty written plainly across his features. He reached for me again, but dropped his arm back to his side, his mouth pressed into a thin, sad smile. 

 

“I’m not good at love, Gemma. I’ve fucked up every relationship I’ve ever had,” he started softly. I almost couldn’t hear him over the rain. “But I want you.”

 

My brain was short circuiting, and I couldn’t even finish a thought without another one biting it’s tail. _He’s asking me to stay here._

 

“You want me.” I repeated dumbly, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed between us as he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

 

“Yes, stupid girl.” He confirmed, pushing rain soaked hair out of his eyes. “I want you.”

 

What about my apartment? My job? My _life_? Every single concern I had seemed to be warring in my mind, trying to get out of my mouth first. But the thing that popped out of my mouth was;

 

“Can I bring my dog?”

 

 

 

 

 

_To be continued...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is such a whiny baby sometimes, isn't he? Anywho, please let me know what you think of our latest plot developments! I'd give you a hint about what's coming, but I don't want to ruin all that delicious angst. Please drop a comment below, let me know what you think!


	6. In for a Penny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends. I'm not dead and I haven't abandoned this, lol. I'm traveling for work, and it's left me very little time to update, or even work on my story :( This chapter is mainly smut and some plot advancements, and I'm sorry if it's not the length of my other ones.

 

Chapter 6

 

 

 

 

 

When we came back inside, thoroughly soaked and shivering, everyone was cleaning up. I wasn’t sure whether they’d heard our argument or not, and frankly, I didn’t care. I was emotionally exhausted, and it wasn’t helping that Thomas seemed attached at my hip. Chris approached me to ask if I was alright, and before I could answer, Thomas was behind me, his hands grasping my hips possessively, staring at him over my shoulder.

 

“Um, yeah. I’m good,” I said, more conscious than ever of the bad blood between them. Every interaction was a tense standoff, in which Thomas goaded Chris, and Chris remained calmly impassive—or tried to. 

 

“She’s good,” Thomas sneered, and I rolled my eyes, knowing his lack of self control was because he was still _painfully_ drunk. I could still smell the bitterness of the vodka on his breath as he snapped at Chris over my shoulder. I wondered if that had any bearing on what he’d asked me, though I supposed I would know in the morning. I hoped it had been real, and not a side effect of his current inebriation. Thomas was attached to my hip—wherever I went, he followed, pressing close to me, as though he was signaling everyone in a hundred mile radius to stay away from me.

 

I went to talk to Scarlett, and he was behind me, resting his chin on the top of my head as I spoke. I wanted to feel angry, caged, but… I didn’t. I felt strangely secure, and protected by his constant presence. When I’d finally said all my goodbyes, I closed the door, only to find myself pressed against it by the hard planes of his body. I couldn’t help the loud groan that escaped my throat at the contact. Thomas’ hands roamed my body, and he stoutly ignored me when I told him I wasn’t comfortable.

 

“Thomas.”

 

“Mm?”

 

“I want to move.”

 

His hands were at the button of my jeans, pulling them open as he tried to shimmy them down my thick thighs. I pushed against the door, but was met with his solid body against my back, the heated length of him pressed against my ass. 

 

“The bed, Thomas,” I tried again, and finally he seemed to hear me. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to pull me into his arms, hoist me up, and walk briskly to the bedroom, where he dumped me unceremoniously onto the bed in an undignified heap. “Hey!” 

 

I’d never seen him so singleminded—he didn’t even bother with his usual seduction. He tugged my jeans off, leaving in me in my shirt and underwear. 

 

“Off,” he said gruffly, pulling at the hem of my shirt. It was barely over my head before he was pressing his heated skin against mine, the engorged weight of his cock pressing against the panties I suspected he was too impatient to bother ridding me of. Thomas captured my lips, sweeping his tongue into my mouth, swallowing the sound I made as he cupped my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers. I felt him mumble something against my chin before he pressed his lips to my jaw and then my neck as he reached down to position himself.

 

“Tom, my panties— Ow!” He tore them off of me, the elastic snapping against my skin as the fabric gave way and tore in his grip. I didn’t have much time to complain, because then he was inside me, sliding in with ease that surprised even me. I groaned, my nails leaving red welts on the pale skin of his arms as I writhed underneath him. Thomas swept up both my wrists in one of his hands, and pinned them above my head as he drove into me, ragged moans tearing their way out of his throat. I keened as he rubbed against that spot that drove me wild, arching my back, and crying out his name. 

 

“Thomas!”

 

“That’s right,” he growled, his other hand sliding into my folds where we were connected to find my clit, where he pinched it, making me quake underneath him. “Say daddy’s name again.” I keened, my head slamming back against the mattress. “Say it!” He hissed, and I couldn’t help but comply as his name tore itself from my throat.

 

“Fuck, Tom,” I cried, and he grinned lasciviously down at me.

 

“I love it when you say my name,” he breathed, releasing my wrists to pull my legs up around his hips so that he could force his cock even deeper into my soaking pussy. “Your eyes get so dilated when I fuck you, baby,” he crooned, and I groaned, my cunt clenching tightly around his dick. I cried out as he ground into me—there was no room left in my head for coherent thought, for anything but _this_ , and I didn’t care. All I wanted was more, more of him, more of the mind numbing pleasure no one could give me _but_ him. I met his thrusts with equal ferocity, driving my hips upward to meet his as my eyes rolled shut, my mouth dripping obscenities I couldn’t seem to stem.

 

“This pussy is _mine_ ,” he growled, leaning down to lave a kiss against my collarbone, followed with a harsh bite that only made me arch against him. There was sure to be a bruise tomorrow, but I couldn’t concentrate on that now. “Tell me it’s mine, Gemma,” he commanded. His eyes were wild and bright, almost glowing in the darkness of my bedroom. 

 

“It’s yours!” I said, my breath hitching as his hips pushed into mine. “Fuck, it’s yours, daddy,” I panted again, my eyes sliding closed as I drew closer and closer to the precipice I was dying to fall over. Tom’s hands were hot against my hips, holding me tight enough to bruise as he drove into me. “I’m so close,” I moaned wantonly, the words slipping out of my mouth before I had time to process them. My admission seemed to spur him on, and he moaned, tipping his head back.

 

I could feel my release coiling in my belly, ready to snap, my pussy throbbing wetly around the invading length of his cock. Thomas leaned down to take my mouth again, and it was as though he was trying to prove to _himself_ that this was real, that I was his, and that he _had_ me. His possessiveness had no rhyme or reason, it just _was_ , and all I could do to reassure him was let him conquer me, claim me inside and out. His tongue massaged mine as he devoured my mouth, leaving me gasping and shaking against him as he swallowed every sound I let out. 

 

_“Mine,”_ he said again, his voice ragged. “Come on and cum, baby girl,” he panted, angling his hips so that his cock slid tantalizingly against my clit as he fucked me. I threw my head back against the mattress, whiteness exploding behind my eyes as I came hard, my mouth open in a silent scream. Vaguely I could hear Thomas panting against my mouth, our lips touching as he breathed the same word over and over again as he spilled inside me.

 

_“Mine, mine, mine…”_

 

 

 

And I knew, without a doubt, that I was. 

 

 

—

 

 

“Why do you need to sleep with a light on?” Thomas asked, his voice still hoarse from sleep. I’d been awake for a little while, but I hadn’t wanted to move. All I could think about was last night, outside in the rain, when he’d asked me to stay. Thomas’ sleeping form was pressed against my back, his arm thrown across my hips. I knew that if I moved, I’d wake him, so I stayed still, watching as the sun crept over the horizon, and the room filled with early morning light. I hadn’t realized he’d woken up too, and his question—and the suddenness of it—surprised me. 

 

 

“I…don’t like the dark.” I replied slowly. It wasn’t something I talked about often, or liked to bring up. Thomas had been indulgent of my need thus far, never mocking or complaining, even though I knew it made it harder for him to fall asleep. At the rental, usually I left the hall light on, and at his house, it was the bathroom light. “It’s not a fun story.” I said lowly, swallowing thickly. It was a poor excuse—Sara hadn’t been a fun story either. 

 

“Can you tell me?”

 

His voice was surprisingly gentle, soft. I was almost afraid of his tenderness, wondering briefly if he had some ulterior motive. He waited patiently, allowing me the space to collect myself, to steel my nerves against the memories that I knew would resurface.

 

“When I was about fifteen, my dad lost his job.” I started, staring staunchly at the wall in front of me. “He didn’t take it well.”

 

“He was abusive.” Thomas stated matter-of-factly, and I nodded jerkily. He loved being a cop—He’d said it was his calling; Kyle Hendricks, NYPD. But when the city had made budget cuts, he was one of the ones let go. He’d had to take a job working Mall Security out in Long Island, and he hadn’t been too happy about that. I could recall his slow descent into the bottle he hadn’t been able to crawl out of, the shouting matches that had become an all too regular occurrence in my house, and then finally, the hitting. It had been walls at first, conspicuous holes punched into the drywall, and then us. 

 

“I…I was going to run away.” I said haltingly, my eyes stinging with tears I didn’t want to shed in front of Thomas. He couldn’t see me, but he would know I was crying. It was morbidly funny—this man had seen me come totally apart, and here I was, afraid of showing him a few tears. “He found my bag, and the money I’d been saving. Told me that I’d never get anywhere, unless I was as big of a whore as my mother. He locked me in the basement closet for six days.” _It was so dark._

 

Thomas was silent as I recounted this to him, rubbing soothing circles on my lower back as I spoke, my voice trembling. “Mom finally left after that. Got a restraining order, and he left the city. We haven’t heard from him since then.” He was quiet for a few minutes longer, and then spoke, his breath puffing against my ear. I didn’t realize I was shaking until Thomas rested his hand on my waist to still me. 

 

“Do you know where he is, Gemma?” he asked, his voice hard and I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut when the tears threatened to overflow. I was _still_ on anxiety meds, and going to weekly therapy because of it, and even though Dr. Grant said it would help to talk about it, I almost never did. It was easier just not thinking about it.

 

“No.” it was barely more than a whisper.

 

“Good. For him.” He bit out, his arms coming up to encircle my stiff body. “Because I would have fucking killed him.” We laid there silently for a while, the heat of Thomas’ skin warming my suddenly cold skin. I fell back asleep like that, with Thomas’ warm hands tracing gentle patterns on my skin, and the sound of his heartbeat pounding in my ears. 

 

 

—

 

When I woke again, it was late morning, and Thomas wasn’t in bed with me. I sat up groggily, wondering where he’d gone. I was still naked from his violent assault on my clothes the night before, so I began digging through the drawers in the bedroom for something to wear after I got out of the shower. I was considering walking down the hallway naked when I realized groggily that I could hear Thomas’ voice coming from elsewhere in the house: he was talking to someone. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, or who he was talking to, but I could hear the agitation in his tone. _No shower for me,_ I thought irritatedly, tossing my towel down onto the bed so that I could shove my legs into a pair of sweatpants. 

 

“—After all this time you’re still the same,” the other person said, their voice rising. “Still selfish, still manipulative.” Was that…Chris? I hurried down the hallway. He was probably here to help me check out. We’d talked about him returning my rental car for me after dropping me to the airport, but I hadn’t informed anyone of the… rather sudden change in plans. _Of course_ he’d shown up, and _of course_ Thomas couldn’t help but antagonize him. “She has a fucking _life_ to go back to. Gemma’s a _good girl,_ Tom. She deserves better than to be your… your fucktoy!” I could hear the chairs sliding back, and I entered the kitchen in time to see them both glaring at each other, looking for all the world as though they would have torn one another limb from limb if I hadn’t walked in when I had. The irony of Chris calling me a good girl wasn’t lost on me, and I was sure if Thomas hadn’t been contemplating murder, his lascivious mind would have gone straight to the gutter. 

 

“Am I interrupting?” I asked dryly, looking back and forth between the two men. Tom’s fists were clenched on the table, and he was leaning over it, as though he’d intended to grab Chris and pummel him. Chris, for his part, was tensed and ready to spring, like a linebacker about to tackle. “Because I can excuse myself.”

 

“I didn’t know you were staying,” Chris said stiffly, narrowing his eyes at Thomas. “I came to pick you up.” 

 

“Sorry, I… Fuck, it was last minute.” I said lamely, unable for some reason to meet his sad blue eyes. “I was going to tell you.” I didn’t feel bad about making him go out of his way, when Chris was in Blumfield, he stayed with Mabel, who was only five minutes up the road. My guilt was far more complex. I had a niggling feeling Chris was trying to _save_ me, the way he hadn’t been able to save Sara—I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, or resurrect old ghosts.

 

But I was a grown woman, and I didn’t need saving. 

 

“You don’t owe him anything,” Thomas snapped, pushing away from the table to lean against the counter. I was at a loss. I didn’t know how to diffuse this, or how my morning had gone so far down the toilet before I’d even had any coffee. _I’ve only been awake twenty fucking minutes._ I ran a hand through my hair, before pressing the heels of my palms against my closed eyelids. 

 

 

“Where are you staying?” Chris asked, and I blanched. I hadn’t really thought about that, and although I knew Thomas’ assumption was that I would be staying with him, I wasn’t sure if that was what I wanted. None of this was planned, and I wasn’t exactly prepared for any of it. 

 

“I, um—”

 

 

“With me.” Thomas stated matter-of-factly, like I’d known he would. It wasn’t a question for him, it was a given. Not a request, but a statement of fact. 

 

“You can stay here.” Chris replied, ignoring the other man’s interjection. I shook my head. I only had one more paycheck coming in, and considering that I’d have to at least take a leave of absence from work, I didn’t know where my money was going to be coming from. Until I found something in Anchorage, I would have to ration my spending incredibly carefully. I wasn’t necessarily ready to _live_ with Thomas, but I didn’t have another option available. 

 

“I can’t afford it.”

 

“It’s on me,” he replied cheerfully, and I couldn’t miss him glancing at Thomas’ stiff expression with more than a little glee. “My grandmother likes you.” My jaw dropped open. The last thing I’d expected Chris to do was put me up, and my embarrassment sent heat to the back of my neck. I knew Tom would probably be offended at my relief—after all, he’d just admitted how badly he wanted me to stay—but I couldn’t help it. I could hear my mother’s voice in the back of my mind, urging me to be careful, not to loose myself. I gave a halfhearted protest, just for the sake of politeness. 

 

“Are you sure? I mean… I can try and pay you—” He silenced me with a look that told me he knew exactly what I was playing at. I grinned in relief. 

 

“Thanks, Chris.” I said, unable to keep my voice from betraying how happy I was. I chose not to address Chris’ comments before I’d come in—regardless of how my friend felt about my…whatever we were, I was an adult, and I was entitled to make my own decisions; good or bad. I wanted to se this through, I wanted _Thomas_. Who, for his part, had kept mostly quiet during our exchange, but was now drumming his fingers angrily on the counter, watching our exchange with icy eyes. It was funny—Thomas was the one who’d slept with Chris’ girlfriend, but it was _him_ who was paranoid about _me_ straying. 

 

“I’ll tell Scarlett you’re staying, yeah?” He said, shouldering his bag. I hadn’t realized, but Chris was dressed for work. He straightened his suit, and made for the door. I laughed a little.

 

“She’ll probably piss herself,” I replied, and he chuckled. 

 

“Take care of yourself,” He said seriously, and I nodded. 

 

“I usually do.”

 

I waited for him to pull off before closing the door. When I returned to the kitchen, Thomas was nowhere in sight, and I assumed he was outside, smoking. I checked the patio, and found I was correct. He was sitting outside, elbows on his knees, angrily exhaling smoke into the gray sky.

 

“You want to tell me what that was about?” I asked, sliding the door open. He turned slightly to glare at me, but didn’t respond. I went to sit on the other chair, but he grasped my wrist, pulling me down into his lap. “Didn’t you guys used to be fucking friends, or something?” I tried again. 

 

“That tends to happen when one fucks his friend’s girlfriend,” he bit out. I wiggled, but he still didn’t release me. Thomas offered me a toke of his spliff but I declined it. I was still out of sorts from last night, and I wanted to have a totally clear head about me. 

 

“What has you so pissy?” I asked, turning to face him, my legs dangling over his. I was so short that sitting this way across his lap had my feet completely off the ground. “You can’t have expected me to actually live with you.”

 

His derisive look told me that he had. 

 

“This is _his_ house, Gemma.” he replied, his voice low. It clicked into place, and I couldn’t help but sigh. Thomas narrowed his eyes at me, but we’d come a long way from me being intimidated by him. 

 

“So you’re mad because a friend who you happen to dislike, offered me a place to live, rent free, while I sort my shit out?”

 

“I offered you the same thing.” he said shortly, smoke curling out of his nostrils and clouding the air between our faces. Thomas’ possessiveness knew no bounds, and rationality certainly wasn’t going to impose itself on his opinion any time soon. For him, it was insulting that I’d rather have a space provided for me by a man who wasn’t him; and for me, it was a godsend in the wake of an incredibly irrational decision I couldn’t seem to make myself regret in the slightest. I wanted to tell him what a petulant fucking child he was being, but that would only make him more irritable and obstinate. I had to find another approach. 

 

“Tom, I need space that’s separate from yours.” I replied, meeting his reproachful gaze. 

 

“My house isn’t small.” he scoffed, but I had a feeling he knew what I was getting at. 

 

“It’s not about size, Thomas and you know it. Focus on your victory, I’m staying,” I snapped sarcastically, tapping the end of his nose. He fixed me with that icy blue stare, before hmm-ing deep in his throat. I’d won this battle, but I knew he wouldn’t be completely satisfied until I was moved in. He exhaled smoke out of his nostrils, and tried again to hand me the end of the joint burning in his hand. I took it this time, inhaling deeply. 

 

“You can’t beat the shit out of everyone you don’t like.” I said, coughing a little. 

 

“I don’t.” Thomas retorted, and I was reminded of Aiden, who was probably still bruised from his well earned ass kicking. “Just the ones who deserve it.”

 

We sat outside for a while, passing the joint between us until it was nothing more than a burnt roach. I hadn’t called work yet, to let them know I wouldn’t be returning any time soon. If I wasn’t fired—which wasn’t likely—I would have to use up all my remaining sick and PTO days, of which there weren’t nearly as many. 

 

“What are you worrying about?” Thomas asked, and the sound of his voice surprised me. 

 

“Work. Money. The usual shit,” I sighed, tugging on a loose lock of hair that had somehow slipped loose from the kinky bun at the base of my neck. Thomas’ eyes were heavily lidded, his fingers massaging my hips absently. “I’m going to have to call my job and explain that I’m not coming back because my…you asked me to stay and I’m going to lose my job and—“

 

“Gemma.”

 

“What?” I snapped exasperatedly, my nostrils flaring.

 

“Shut up.” And then he was kissing me, his hot mouth slanting over mine, his teeth nipping at my lower lip. It was his way of offering comfort, forcing my thoughts to retreat to the background of my mind as heat pooled at the apex of my thighs. I was grateful— I didn’t _want_ to think about any of that right now. I wasn’t sure if it was the weed or if it was just _him,_ but I felt dizzy, and my skin was hot. His tongue swept into my mouth, working against my own. I pushed back feebly, and was met with harsh growl. Thomas’ fingers dug into my hips, hard enough that I wondered if I would bruise. 

 

“Be a good girl, Gemma.” He murmured against my mouth, his teeth scraping against my bottom lip as he nipped me. “Daddy doesn’t want to punish you.”

 

I felt an embarrassing gush of wetness at his words—especially knowing he _loved_ punishing me. 

 

Probably about as much as I loved being punished. 

 

I was still in my sweatpants, so it wasn’t a challenge for him to slide his hand under my waistband, his fingers grazing over the swell of my belly. I gasped into his mouth and he grinned against my lips, his other hand massaging my ass through my clothes. 

 

“Fuck,” I whined as he slid a finger through my already damp folds.

 

“Language,” Thomas growled, pinching my clit roughly between his fingers. “This is your _last_ warning.”

 

I wondered what my punishment would be, since I knew I would be unable to keep myself under control. “Mm, you know you’re already wet?” He murmured, his breath hot on my chin as his lips traced my jawline. “It doesn’t take much, does it, baby?” Thomas asked, his voice soft, almost hypnotic. I found myself shaking my head in agreement, the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I _still_ wasn’t over how easy it was for him to make me loose all coherent thought. I wiggled in his lap, feeling the weight of his hardening cock pushing up between my legs. Tom’s teeth found my neck, nipping at me as I squirmed, mewling. Boldly, I reached down, grasping him through his jeans. Thomas groaned, bucking his hips into my hand. “Fuck this,” he muttered, locking his arms underneath my thighs as he hoisted me up. I was surprised again at how easy it was for him to lift me, as he carried me over the patio threshold and through the living room, not bothering to close the door behind him. I shivered, though not from the draft. 

 

As I’d expected, he deposited me firmly on the bed, before going to work taking off my sweats. I was embarrassed, I hadn’t showered yet. Thomas didn’t seem to care, his fingers dipping into me before I could protest. A guttural groan worked it’s way out of my throat as my head fell back onto the mattress. I yanked my tank top off, and no sooner than my breasts were clear of it, he attached his mouth to my nipple, his tongue worrying the piercing.

 

“Shit, ah, Thomas,” Words were pouring from my lips nonsensically, in no particular order. He grinned down at me, his blue eyes bright. His cheeks were still slightly red from cold, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. I wasn’t sure when he’d stripped himself out of his clothes, but as Thomas pressed his naked chest against mine I found I didn’t much care. I could feel my own slick wetness on my thighs, and he groaned as he pressed one finger into me, to check my readiness. I had never been this easily aroused before with anyone I’d slept with, and I wasn’t sure what was different. 

 

I spread my legs wantonly, pushing my hips upward. He chuckled, gently rubbing the head of his cock against my sopping entrance. “You’re so _wet_ , Gemma,” he growled, his eyes boring into mine. I hated how hard it was for me to look away. “Tell daddy how bad you want his cock.”

 

I swallowed thickly, my mouth suddenly dry. “P-please…”

 

“You can do better than that, Gemma,” he drawled, pushing tantalizingly against my throbbing pussy. One of his hands came up to tease my nipple, tugging at it just hard enough to send shudders of pleasure down my spine. “Tell me.” Stubbornly, I clamped my lips shut, bucking my hips up, sending the head of his cock into my sopping pussy. Thomas groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. “You little bitch,” he moaned, and I could see him fighting not to plunge himself in to the hilt. I couldn’t help the lascivious grin that spread across my face, and he sneered, before pulling away completely.

 

“You want to play wicked games, little girl?” he said softly, his voice hard. “Then that’s how we’ll play. On your knees, Gemma.”

 

“Thomas—” he pinched my thigh roughly, and I cried out. “Daddy, I—”

 

“On. Your knees.” He replied sternly, motioning to the carpet in front of the bed. Embarrassedly, I slid off of the bed to kneel in front of him, His cock was fully engorged and leaking, a thick vein throbbing along the side of it. “You want to be a bad little bitch, Gemma? That’s how you’ll get treated. Come closer.” I scooted closer, my breath hitching. When I was close enough, he tugged me forward gently, and I balanced my hands on his taut thighs, the wet head of his dick pressing insistently against my lips. I opened my mouth, allowing him inside. He groaned as I laved the underside of him, pressing deeper and deeper until he bumped the back of my throat. I lightly skimmed my teeth along his length as I pulled back, placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses on the weeping head of his cock. My eyes flicked up to his, to find him watching me intently, his lips slightly parted. I felt myself go hot.

 

“You have no fucking idea how hot that is,” he murmured, his fingers tangling in my thick hair. “How can you look so fucking innocent with my cock in your mouth?” he asked, reaching down to pinch my nipple with his long fingers. I moaned around his dick and he grinned. Gently grasping the back of my head, he forced my head down, until my nose was brushing the rough hairs at the base of his cock. “Fuck, Gemma.”

 

At the sound of my name, my pussy clenched wantonly. I moaned, wiggling my hips. “You’re ready for this cock now, aren’t you baby? You’ve been ready forever.” I nodded, working my lips and tongue along his engorged cock desperately. I wanted to come so bad.

 

“Please, daddy,” I begged, pumping him with one hand as I braced myself against his thighs. “Please, please fuck me. I’m sorry.” 

 

Thomas traced the outline of my lips with his thumb. “On the bed. Ass up.”

 

I scrambled to obey, climbing back onto the bed and presenting myself as he’d requested. Immediately, his hands were on me, repositioning my hips and sliding a pillow beneath my belly to make me more comfortable. He massaged my ass roughly, pulling my cheeks apart so he could see my dripping pussy. 

 

“You get off on sucking my dick, don’t you Gemma?” He said, tracing my swollen lips with a single finger. 

 

“Just fuck me,” I whined impatiently, and he swatted my ass. I hissed at the impact, and tried to move away, but his grip was impossible to break. 

 

“You forgot your lesson already?” he said, his voice heavy with warning. 

 

“No, daddy,” I replied quickly, biting back the frustrated insults I wanted to sling. Thomas was nothing if not patient, and he’d keep me on edge for hours—or worse, not let me come at all—and I didn’t want to risk it. I could feel him positioning himself behind me, his cock brushing up against my pussy, which clenched in anticipation. I wanted to be angry at how thoroughly he’d trained my body, but I couldn’t. Not when my every cell was tightly wound in anticipation. 

 

He sank into me slowly, inch by inch, until his hips were tightly pressed against mine, his cock wedged inside of me. I gasped, my head lolling forward onto the mattress. Tom shuddered, pulling out just as slowly, before forcing himself back inside, bumping my cervix harshly with each thrust. 

 

“So fucking tight,” he muttered, squeezing my ass so hard I was sure there would be handprints. I keened, spreading my thighs further to allow him deeper access. “Such a good girl,” he praised, and I felt my pussy tighten around his cock. “You have such a pretty pussy Gemma. And it’s mine. Tell me it’s mine,” He rasped, and I couldn’t deny him.

 

“It’s yours, Thomas,” I gasped, throwing my hips backwards to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts. “It’s your pussy Daddy, just yours!” I felt one of his hands leave my hips, and the other spread my ass wider. It didn’t take long for me to figure out what he was doing, as the tip of his wet finger probed my asshole. “Can I…?” he panted, and I nodded, glad that he couldn’t see my face. “Use your words, Gemma. I need to hear it.”

 

“Yes, Daddy, you can… you can put your finger in me.” I panted, and he stilled his hips, leaning over me.

 

“Put my finger where, Gemma?”

 

“In… In my ass,” I answered, my voice muffled by the blankets. For a moment, I was worried he was going to make me repeat it, but he seemed satisfied, and lifted off of me, before pressing his index finger into the tight ring of muscle, up to his first knuckle. 

 

He resumed thrusting into me, moving his finger in time. I moaned in spite of myself, and I could practically feel his perverted grin. “One day, you’re going to let me fuck you in here,” he growled, and I shook my head in denial, gasping as he fucked me harder. “Oh yes you will. You’re going to beg me.”

 

He pulled his finger from my ass, only to add a second to it, scissoring them inside me gently as he drove me closer and closer to coming. 

 

“No,” I cried stubbornly, even as I pushed back on him, driving his fingers all the way inside me. 

 

“Your mouth can lie, Gemma,” he growled, pushing his cock up against the spot inside me that made me shiver and gasp. “But your pussy can’t. If only you could see how wet you’re getting, how close you are with my fingers in your ass.”

 

I knew that if I came like this, he would never let me live it down, but I couldn’t fight him much longer, the beginnings of my orgasm making my legs shake, and my arms go weak. “It’s okay, baby,” he crooned. “Just come, Gemma. Be a good girl.”

 

The coil in my belly snapped, and I came hard, whiteness exploding behind my closed eyes, and my blood roaring in my ears. Through my bliss, I could feel Thomas thrusting into me, my pussy milking his cock until he came too, pinning my hips underneath his as he emptied himself into me. 

 

He fell to the side, pulling me with him, his cock still firmly wedged inside of me. “One of these fucking days you’re going to have to put on a damn condom,” I chided, and he grunted noncommittally in response. 

 

“Seriously, I’m almost out of pills.”

 

“Talk to me when you run out.”

 

I rolled my eyes, and tried to wiggle out of his arms, but only succeeded in pushing him even further into my body. “Unless you’re ready for another round, Gemma, be still,” he warned, and I felt my neck go hot. I was starting to get a little sore—I wasn’t used to this much sex on a regular basis. I was married to my job, which didn’t afford a lot of time to socialize. I’d spent more long nights than I cared to admit with Mr. Renner at his desk, which had killed almost every potential relationship I’d started, until I’d just stopped bothering. 

 

“Did you call your job yet?” he asked, his breath hot against my shoulder. 

 

“Between last night, and your dick being in my mouth this morning, I’d have to say no,” I said sarcastically, and he popped my ass in response. “Hey!”

 

“Your language is truly abysmal.”

 

“As are your manners,” I retorted, and I could feel the deep reverberations of his laughter against my back. “But I’m going to call today. I’m trying to mentally prepare myself to get fired.” I said, some of the worry from earlier worming it’s way back into my brain. 

 

“I’ll help you find something here,” he said nonchalantly, his tone completely unconcerned. I rolled my eyes frustratedly. Of _course_ this wouldn’t be an obstacle for him; captain “Laziest CEO ever” could probably snap his fingers and land me the job of a lifetime. 

 

“Thanks, Emperor Harrison,” I replied sarcastically.

 

“Don’t sound too grateful,” He sneered, and I fought the urge to kick him. 

 

 

 

—

 

My hands shook as I held my phone. I’d rehearsed calling my job about a dozen times in my head, and each time it had gone equally badly. Theoretically, I knew I couldn’t be fired for asking to use up all the rest of my sick and paid vacation days, but I also knew my boss. Working for the same person for almost six years tended to give you a little personal insight—and I knew Mr. Renner was going to be pissed. I’d told him I would be back at the end of the month, and here it was now, the end of August, and I still wasn’t back in New York. 

 

I was a practical girl—I liked having an apartment and a car, and I paid for those things by working my ass off. Now my future was totally up in the air, and the person who’d tossed it there was sitting smugly across the table from me, watching as I played with my phone instead of biting the bullet. We’d returned to his place for him to get some work done, and for me to use his lightning fast internet—the wifi at the cabin was less than perfect, and it had been going out recently. Chris had said he’d come to check it out, but since Thomas had been hanging around, he hadn’t quite gotten around to it. I figured he would probably stop by while I was gone, to avoid another awkward scene like yesterday morning. 

 

“You’re going to have to call at some point,” Thomas replied airily, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

 

“You’re not making this any fucking easier.” I snapped, looking at him pointedly. He shrugged, and lifted a joint to his lips. I looked at it longingly, but decided against it. I needed my head clear when I called my boss, and I knew I would ramble nervously without the weed. Adding that to my system would only make things worse. “Can you do that somewhere else?” I said, gesturing to my phone.

 

“Gemma you’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes and you haven’t called yet.”

 

“You’re fucking insufferable.”

 

“And yet you’re here.” He drawled, running a hand through his curly black hair. 

 

“Are you trying to distract me?” I asked frustratedly, gesturing at him. He grinned, leaning back in his chair. 

 

“Is it working?”

 

“No,” I admitted, sighing before putting my head in my hands. “I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much.” Normally, my anxiety was relegated to things like meetings and deadlines. I’d done enough work with my various therapists to make social interaction easy enough to navigate. 

 

 

I’d already bitten my nails down to the quick, absently spitting out the polish Allie had put on them before we’d gone to Anchorage. It wasn’t just the phone call that was giving me anxiety, it was the fact that this would solidify my decision. This was my last chance to back out, to go back to the way things were, the way they were _supposed_ to be. 

 

But as Thomas watched me cooly with those clear blue eyes, I found I didn’t _want_ things to go back to the way they were. I was bored at home, bored at work, and most of all, I was lonely. 

 

And I hadn’t realized exactly how lonely until Thomas had wormed his way inside me.

 

I didn’t _want_ to go back to working from 8am to 10pm, sitting with Mr. Renner working out our next installment, having him be my primary company. I didn’t want to sit in my office anymore.

 

I wanted to be here. 

 

And then suddenly I knew that this phone call wasn’t about my extra days at all. 

 

It was about my resignation. 

 

Thomas had never suggested I quit my job, but I knew if I wanted this to work—and I did—that I couldn’t go back to New York. Renner would probably blackball me at every newspaper I applied to, and I would probably go broke moving here, but I didn’t want to live like that anymore. 

 

And Thomas was waiting—not so patiently—for me to realize that I didn’t _have_ to. 

 

He stubbed out the joint in the ashtray at his kitchen table, and gestured for me to pick up my phone, and call. I swallowed thickly, before steeling myself. I _had_ to do this. 

 

“Sunburst News, how may I direct your call this afternoon?”

 

“Hi, Sheila, it’s Gemma.”

 

I heard her breath hitch, and I knew they’d been talking about me at the office. “Gemma! Where… where are you? Renner’s freaking out,” she whispered. I knew she wasn’t asking for my benefit, and I didn’t exactly have time to feed the rumor mill. I fidgeted in my seat, before taking a deep breath. “You were supposed to be back today!”

 

“I know, Sheila.” I replied, trying not to let my frustration and anxiety get the better of me. I wanted nothing more than to hang up the phone, but I knew that would only make my—now incredibly public—exit from the Sunburst even worse. “Can you just transfer me to Jeremy’s office, please?”

 

“Sure. Um, good luck.”

 

 

The line clicked repeatedly as I waited for my boss to pick up the phone. Thomas wasn’t making this any easier, scooting closer to me so he could try and glean what was being said. I shooed him away, and he shrugged, leaving the room, finally. 

 

“You missed your flight.” The smooth baritone of my employer’s voice floated through the receiver, and I swallowed nervously. 

 

“No.”

 

“You’re dying.”

 

“No, sir, I—”

 

“Then where the _hell_ are you, Hendricks?” I flinched, even though he wasn’t physically present. Jeremy Runner was an intimidating man, which was part of the reason I always tried to stay on his good side. 

 

“Because I won’t be coming back to New York,” I replied, forcing confidence I didn’t feel into my voice. “I’m moving here. To Alaska.”

 

The line was dead silent for a few seconds as he processed my statement. “May I be candid, Gemma?” he asked after a moment, and I was afraid to answer in the affirmative. 

 

“Yes, Mr. Renner.”

 

“Are you ill? You’re a fantastic writer with a bright future, Gemma. I don’t think this is a bridge you want to burn.” My eyebrows shot up at the unspoken threat. I knew that Renner wasn’t afraid to pull strings or use connections—it was how we got half of our stories. But in my naiveté, I’d never expected him to lowball me like that. Heat burned in my chest as I narrowed my eyes. 

 

“No, I’m not ill _sir,_ I’m just.. I like it here. I want to stay.”

 

“What’s his name?” he sneered, and I could practically feel the anger oozing out of him. “You’ve been here for six years, the last three spent working with me, _personally_.” he spat, and I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep from cursing. “You’re throwing that all away for some hillbilly fuck? You’re smarter than that, Gemma.”

 

My mouth opened before I could stop it. “How dare you? You’re my boss, you’re supposed to act with class and discretion, not talk to me like you’re some jilted high school asshole! Thomas Harrison is worth ten Jeremy Renners, and you can give my position to Carolyn, since you like fucking her on the boardroom table!” 

 

I ended the call before he could respond, my chest heaving, and angry tears welling in my eyes. I wanted to scream—I’d thought that my success at work was my own hard work paying off, but in reality it had been my boss wanting to fuck me. I slammed my phone down on the table and pressed the heels of my palms to my closed eyes. 

 

“I take it that didn’t go well,” Tom’s voice came from behind me, and I shook my head tiredly, not opening my eyes.

 

“I’m officially unemployed now.” I sighed, wiping the tears that managed to fall off of my cheeks frustratedly. “He called you a hillbilly fuck.” He didn’t say anything, so I continued. “And then said I was stupid for staying here.”

 

“Clearly you worked for an idiot.” Thomas leaned down and wrapped his arms around me, burying his nose in my hair. “We’ll find you something better here.” he said again, his large hand rubbing surprisingly soothing circles on my back. I’d come to find that he _did_ have a soft side—barely. Thomas was hard as nails on a good day, and he wasn’t to sort to coddle. He expected me to find a solution—he would help, but I had to put the work in. I liked that about him. I sniffled, inhaling his scent. He smelled like rain and pine needles, and I assumed he’d just come in from outside. 

 

“I don’t want you to take care of me,” I said, my voice muffled in his sweater. “I can make my own money.” I _hated_ feeling like a burden, it was why I’d moved out of my mother’s house at eighteen, despite complaints from both her, and my therapist. I knew money wasn’t an issue for Tom, but it was for me. I didn’t want to be dependent on him—I’d seen through my mother’s own experience that to be dependent on a man could be a death sentence. 

 

“I know, Gemma.” he said gently.

 

“I can take care of myself.”

 

“Of course you can.”

 

I pushed away from him, looking up into his handsome face, searching for a hint of sarcasm or disapproval—but there was none. He only looked down at me calmly, as though waiting for me to call the next shot. 

 

“I guess I start looking for jobs now.”

 

He nodded. 

 

“Oh shit,” I said, shoving him away, and slapping an irritated hand to my forehead. “I have to call my mom.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “To ask permission to move.” He replied, quirking an eyebrow. 

 

“What? No,” I snapped, rolling my eyes. “I need to figure out how to get Mae here. And you know I _am_ going to have to go back to New York to pack up my apartment. I can’t live on three weeks worth of clothes.”

 

“It’s not like you wear them anyway,” he said snidely, laughing as I lunged at him from across the table, my cheeks burning. 

 

“Shut up!”

 

Thomas caught me and pulled me down into his lap, resting his chin on my shoulder. His deep voice rumbled in my ear, doing things to my insides. 

 

“When do you need to go back by?” he asked, his breath ghosting against my neck. I shivered. 

 

“Probably a week or two. I’m pretty sure my mom will understand.”

 

“I’ll go with you.”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, leaning my head back against his chest. “But I appreciate it.”

 

He snorted. “I’m aware I don’t have to. I didn’t ask your permission.”

 

“Asshole.”

 

“Bitch.”

 

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Two weeks ago I would have tried to hit him for calling me that, but impossibly, it seemed to be becoming a term of endearment. 

 

“You’d better not curse at me like that in front of my mom. She’ll kill you,” I said, smirking.

 

“Like mother like daughter,” he said long sufferingly, and I laughed. It felt good to have a plan. Even it if it wasn’t very much of one. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So??? I hope it was worth the wait. Next Thomas and Gemma will be packing their bags and heading to the big apple... Where Gemma's boss also lives... Hm....


	7. In for a pound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with another chapter! Enjoy :) Also: I included some reference pictures of the bathing suits Gemma buys at the end of the chapter--she's a bit slimmer than the model, but they have similar-ish body types :D

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey mom.”

 

“How was your trip? Did you get the pictures I sent you of Mae-mae?” 

 

It was nice to hear my mother’s voice, and I fell easily back into our familiar pattern of conversation. “Yeah, I got them—are you feeding her more than twice a day? I told you, she acts like she’s dying but she’s fine.”

 

“She’s hungry!”

 

“She’s playing you,” I replied, laughing. “She’s going to come home so fat.”

 

“I was going to tell you I can keep her for a few more days while you get settled. Why don’t you come for lunch on Sunday, you can show me all your pictures!”

 

“Ma, I didn’t take that many. But that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, I was going to ask if you could keep Mae for another week or two. I’m… I’m gonna move here.”

 

My mother let out a short peal of laughter, making it clear she thought I was joking. I swallowed my irritation. “I’m serious, Ma. I, uh, I met somebody.” The line went silent, and for a moment, despite my internet connection, I thought the call had dropped. 

 

“What’s his name? What does he do? Is he nice to you?” The questions poured out one after the other, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, wondering if this was what it might be like to talk to myself. “Send me a picture! You’re not responding. Is it a girl? Is that why you’re quiet? I don’t care about that, Gemma, you know your aunt had a girlfriend once—”

 

 

“Ma! I’m not responding because I can’t get a word in edgewise,” I replied snarkily, laughing. “I’ll send you one later. I don’t actually have any pictures of him. His name is Thomas Harrison. He’s kind of…. he’s…” I paused, trying to find the words to accurately describe him. I had been about to talk about him in generic—untrue—terms; “nice”, and “funny” weren’t really spot on adjectives for Thomas. 

 

I also couldn’t straight out call him a dickhead, either. “He’s a good guy. Kind of rough around the edges.”

 

“Like you.”

 

“Gee, thanks Ma.”

 

“I’ve never lied to you before,” she quipped. “Are you sure moving is a good idea right now, Gem? I mean… it’s only been three weeks,” She said, caution coloring her voice. “I’m sure he’s a nice boy, but…”

 

“I’ll be okay, mom,” I said firmly. If there was anyone with the power to change my mind about something, it was my mother. She had a hard time respecting my decisions—not because she didn’t think I was capable of making good ones, but because she was afraid I would make her mistakes. Fortunately for her, I was more than able to make my own. “He’s coming with me to pack up my stuff and get Mae. I think we might actually have to drive my car back here, actually. It’s going to be really expensive to put her on the plane.”

 

“I get to meet him? You’ve never brought a boy home, Gem!” she said excitedly, previous trepidation forgotten. “I’ll get the grill out, oh your aunt is going to be so excited!”

 

“Mom please don’t get carried away. We’ll only be in the city a few days—”

 

“And your grandmother too! I’ll get her from Queens, she’ll want to see him—”

 

Thomas peeked into the living room as I held the phone away from my ear exasperatedly. “Everything alright?”

 

“She’s excited to meet you.”

 

We could both hear her voice through the receiver as she yelled: “Holy shit, is that him?!”

 

He chuckled.

 

“Yeah, Ma.”

 

—

 

 

By the time I was off the phone, my mother had already made elaborate cook-out plans, and promised to call every family member that lived in the tristate area. It was embarrassingly sweet, though I wasn’t sure how Thomas would react to my incredibly loud, invasive, but well meaning family. We were sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, my legs across Thomas’ lap as he absently stroked my thigh. 

 

“We’re going to have to drive back because of Mae,” I said, watching as he flipped through the channels without stopping on anything. 

 

“Gemma that’s a 72 hour drive.”

 

“Well you don’t have to come,” I retorted, fixing him with a glare. Thomas had been the one to insist he accompany me, he wasn’t allowed to complain about the circumstances. 

 

“At least let’s fly down,” he acquiesced, and I shook my head. 

 

“I checked the tickets already, it’s like almost six hundred bucks for both of us, on coach. It’s cheaper just to drive.” Thomas rolled his eyes, and shrugged. 

 

“I’ll pay for the airfare.”

 

“No.”

 

“Gemma I’m not driving 72 hours there, and then 72 hours back. That’s insane. Just let me pay for the tickets and stop being an incorrigible bitch.”

 

I kicked at him, but he simply held my legs down with one hand. “I don’t want you to—”

 

“Jesus Christ, Gemma, just let me pay for the fucking tickets!” He snapped. I hated how I immediately cowed, tilting my head to the side submissively. It was an instant reaction to him raising his voice, and I couldn’t help the tiny spark of fear that bloomed in my chest. I didn’t actually think Tom would hurt me, but I _hated_ being yelled at—it reminded me too much of my father. He reached for me and I flinched. His eyes widened, and he scooted away from me on the couch, raising his hands palms out. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Gemma.”

 

“I know.” I mumbled, covering my face with my hands. “I’m not afraid, I just…” I felt the shame settle in my belly. I didn’t want Thomas to think I was some fragile child—but I couldn’t help my reaction. 

 

“You don’t have to explain.” for once, Thomas looked like he was unsure, like he wasn’t completely sure what he should do, or say to me. His usual reaction—to fuck me until I couldn’t sit down—wouldn’t work here. He was a particularly physical person, not good with words in the slightest. “Can I hold you?” he asked, and I nodded, meeting him in the middle of the sofa. Thomas pulled me onto his lap, his hold almost crushing. “Gemma…”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it again,” I muttered, turning to face him and burying my face in his sweater. “I seriously fucking don’t.”

 

“Okay.”

 

If anyone else had been there, it probably would have looked awkward, me clinging to his front as he massaged my hip with one hand and used the remote with the other. But since we were alone, neither of us had to pretend to be someone we weren’t. Maybe that was why I liked him so much—I could be myself. At work, I was professional and aloof, and at home I was alone. After a little while, I felt calm enough to disentangle myself from his embrace and get some water. It was weird—we hadn’t labeled ourselves yet, at least, not out loud. Even talking to my mother, I hadn’t called him my boyfriend.

 

Boyfriend.

 

The word sounded strangely immature in regards to Thomas. Lover was a little better, but it still didn’t fit. Was there a label for what we were?

 

I returned to the living room with two cups—one for him, because though he hadn’t asked me, I knew he would down half of my water as soon as I put my glass on the table. “I want to smoke,” I said, reaching for the ashtray underneath the coffee table. “Can you roll one for me?”

 

“I’m going to teach you how to do it yourself at some point. So you stop bothering me all the time,” he replied grumpily, and I snorted.

 

“One, I have never fucking asked you for a joint before now. And two, you like showing off. Why would I take that small joy from your otherwise miserable, assholish existence?”

 

Thomas sniffed haughtily but said nothing, simply doing as I’d requested and rolling me a joint. He lit it for me, and handed it to me. “You’re welcome.”

 

“Thank you, your highness,” I sneered, inhaling deeply. I didn’t complain when he plucked it from my fingers after a few puffs, killing half of it with one large breath. “Can I ask you something?” If there was one thing weed did to me, it took away the few filters I had. Thomas inclined his head, the spliff resting on his lip. I grabbed it back and took another few hits for courage. “Are you my boyfriend? I need to know how to introduce you to people and—”

 

“Yeah. I guess.”

 

“You guess.”

 

“I never thought about it before.” He admitted, turning his head in my direction. “I assumed we were exclusive, if that helps.”

 

“A little. I guess,” I jabbed back, and he snorted.

 

“Yes, Gemma. Isn’t this a relationship? Isn’t that what we agreed when you decided to stay?”

 

I couldn’t help the derisive laugh that escaped my lips. “You _asked_ me to stay, you ass. And we never… we never talked about it. I guess it’s been kind of bothering me.” I admitted, readjusting my position on the couch so that I was sitting, indian style, facing him. 

 

“Then yes. I’m your boyfriend. Now stop being selfish and pass the spliff, yeah?”

 

—

 

I went back to my rental the next morning, and sure enough, the wifi was working again. I almost wanted to scream at the immaturity coming from both Thomas and Chris, but I knew now their issues couldn’t be fixed by me forcing them to be in the same place at once. They were like same polarity magnets—I couldn’t hold them together. Thomas was going into Anchorage for two days, and he’d tried every trick in the book to get me to accompany him—which for Thomas mostly meant trying to force my agreement during sex. Luckily for me, my head had been so far gone that I couldn’t even respond to his desperate commands, let alone agree to anything. Scarlett was lounging at the kitchen table as I washed dishes, having shown up several hours before, complaining that I was never home anymore. “I need a place to escape my mom, and if you’re not here, I can’t get in.” She’d said seriously, frowning when I giggled. 

 

 

“I can’t believe you’re staying!” she said, sitting at the tiny kitchen table as I worked through the pile of dishes that had built up. “I already told everyone.”

 

“Of course you did,” I said, shaking my head. “Why let me do it myself?”

 

“You’re not active enough in the group chat,” Scarlett replied derisively. “So you and the Iceman.”

 

I leaned against the sink, drying my soapy hands with a dishcloth. I felt heat rise in my cheeks, and I tugged on a lock of my kinky hair nervously.

 

“Yeah. It’s like, a thing now,” I said, nodding. “We’re going next week to get my dog from my mom’s place, we already booked the tickets.”

 

“Jeez! Liam and I have been dating for years and we still don’t live together!” she said, laughing. I bit my lip, and Scarlett’s eyes widened. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you guys living together, I just meant it was different. Not bad different.”

 

“You’re rambling.”

 

“Because you look like you’re going to hit me,” she replied, and I laughed. “I can’t always tell with your resting bitch face.”

 

“Oh, _I_ have resting bitch face?” I countered. “Look, this is you.” I did my best imitation of Scarlett, before sliding into me chair.

 

“That’s not what I look like!” she said, giggling. “So you guys are like. Together together?”

 

“Yeah, although I’m still trying to find a word other than ‘boyfriend’. It makes me feel like a high schooler.” I grabbed an apple out of the fruit basket on the table and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. “And now I have to find a job. I got fired yesterday. Well, technically I quit but I doubt my asshole boss is going to write that on the evaluation.”

 

“Shit. Well, I’d say I’d talk to my boss, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to be closed by January. No one buys antiques anymore—go figure.”

 

“Well I mean… your boyfriend is fucking loaded,” I said, and she nodded. 

 

“Yeah, he wants me to move out to Anchorage. He even said he’d help me open my own store.” 

 

Scarlett had been dabbling in clothing design for years, and she’d shown me some of her sketches a few times. She was definitely talented—if a little bit of an airhead. I wondered if she had the same reservations I did about depending on Liam like I did about Thomas. 

 

“Are you going to do it? I know you’ve got all those dresses you made hanging in your mom’s closet.” 

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been together a while, but I kind of want to do it on my own.” She said slowly, as though this was the first time she was really giving it real thought. “I might let him pay for the storefront space though.”

 

Scarlett checked her phone before letting out an exasperated curse. “I gotta go. I’m going to be late for my shit-ass job.” As she headed for the door, she turned and fixed me with an accusatory glare. “You’d better be here when I get off! We should watch scary movies tonight.” I held my hands up placatingly. 

 

“I’ll be here.”

 

“Good.”

 

—

 

Scarlett’s movie night ended up including all of our friends, who showed up one after the other, piling onto the little couch in the living room. Despite it technically being my home, I ended up on the floor next to the coffee table. Rob reached out to poke me with his foot and I slapped at it.

 

“Ow! I was asking you to pass the popcorn,” he said dejectedly. 

 

“Put your foot over here again, and I promise you’ll pull back a bloody stump, Rob.”

 

“Point taken.”

 

“What are we watching first?” Allie said excitedly, splaying her DVD collection across the table. “I have ‘I know who killed Me’, and the new ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’, oh and ‘The Conjuring.’” 

 

My plan had been just to pirate something off the internet, but Allie had intervened. Being a self proclaimed horror fanatic, she had piles and piles of movies at her apartment, and had volunteered her blu ray player for the night. I couldn’t say no, but I had told her to keep the selection under 50 movies. “Not too scary,” I pleaded. “I want to be able to sleep tonight. And I’m going to be here, alone, so take that under advisement!” 

 

No one responded. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I slipped it out, knowing it was Thomas, checking on me. 

 

_You okay? Haven’t heard from you since this morning._

 

I snapped a picture of my crowded living room before texting back. _I’ve been invaded, lol._

 

_At least you’re not alone. I was going to suggest staying over at someone’s place tonight._

 

_I’m fine, Thomas. Seriously. How’s work?_

 

“Okay, ‘It Follows’ it is!” Allie said excitedly, popping the movie into the player. I’d been half concerned it wasn’t going to work on the ancient television. 

 

_Tedious. I can think of much better ways to spend my time. This meeting should have been done hours ago._

 

I grinned. _I’m sure you could._

 

It was past six now, and I knew Thomas didn’t like to be at work later than three. He hated people on a good day, and being surrounded by them at the firm was torturous for him. 

 

_Maybe you can entertain me._

 

_Oh? How so?_

 

_Send me a picture._

 

My heart thudded in my chest. I certainly wasn’t the purest of people, but I’d never gotten the whole sexting thing. I wasn’t sure how to reply, and as I typed out responses and then erased them, he sent me another message. 

 

_Be a good girl, Gem. Send daddy a picture._

 

I excused myself as the opening credits to the movie began to play, and headed to the bathroom, closing the door. I exhaled loudly, and stripped off my shirt, before snapping a picture of the black lacy bra I was wearing. I sent it, and he saw it immediately. 

 

_Good girl. Take it off._

 

_You’re in a meeting!_

 

_And?_

 

I removed my bra, tossing it to the side. I wondered if the others were looking for me.

 

I angled the phone, and took a picture of my bare breasts, and sent it.

 

_So pretty baby girl. Now the jeans._

 

I took those off too. I licked my lips, grinning. I sat on the rim of the tub, and angled the phone behind me, taking a picture of my ass. That one, I could certainly be proud of. I was starting to feel a little more confident, admiring the picture before I sent it. My thong was practically invisible between my cheeks, and I was grinning cheekily over my shoulder into the camera.

 

_What a naughty girl. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You like sending daddy dirty pictures._

 

_You won’t show them to anyone else, right?_

 

His response was in almost before my text had sent.

 

_Of course not. No one gets to see that delicious body but me. Show daddy your pussy._

 

I felt me cheeks heat even as I spread my legs to slide my panties off. I held myself open with two fingers and pressed the camera button. I sent it, waiting eagerly for his response. 

 

_Such a pretty pussy, Gemma. I can see how wet you are already._ He said, and I shivered. I _was_ wet, and aching between my thighs. His next text came through, spoiling my late night plans for relief.

 

_Don’t even think about touching yourself. I’ll know if you do, Gem._

 

_Why? That’s not fair._

 

I knew I sounded whiny, but I didn’t care. He couldn’t enforce that request from Anchorage. 

 

_Won’t it feel so much better to come all over daddy’s cock, Gemma? Wait for daddy. I’ll be back tomorrow night._

 

_Fine._

 

_I promise it will be worth it. Now play with those soft titties for daddy. Send me a picture of you doing it._

 

_How are you even paying attention to your meeting?_

 

_I’m not. Send it._

 

I used one arm to push my breasts together and pinch my nipples.

 

_Fuck. I’m so hard, Gemma._

 

_Well you did it to yourself._

 

_Don’t get cheeky just because I’m not there to punish you, little bitch._

 

_What happened to ‘good girl’?_ I asked, smirking as I typed. 

 

_I’m going to fuck you so hard._

 

_I’ll be holding you to that._

 

_You’ll wish you hadn’t._

 

I began dressing—I couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, and I knew I’d been in there at least ten minutes. I eased out of the bathroom after I was fully clothed, and took up residence back at the foot of the sofa.

 

“What did I miss?”

 

 

——

 

At the end of the movie, I kicked everyone out, after having Chris help me make sure all the doors and windows were locked. I shivered, remembering how creepy it had been. I almost asked Scarlett to stay over, but I didn’t feel much like entertaining her. After tidying up the living room from all of Rob and Joy’s various snack attacks, I settled into bed, but tossed and turned as the memory of my denied orgasm burned between my legs. 

 

It was almost midnight, but I was still wide awake. My phone began going off, and I grabbed it frustratedly, so intent on laying into whoever was calling me that I didn’t even check the caller ID. 

 

“What?” I said rudely, sitting straight up in bed. 

 

“Should I call back later?” Thomas’ smooth baritone came through the earpiece. 

 

“I didn’t know it was you,” I replied, laying back against the pillows. “Can’t sleep.”

 

“Poor baby,” he purred. “Horny?”

 

“You’re a monster.” I could practically hear him grinning at me. 

 

“You didn’t play with yourself, did you?”

 

“Ugh, no.” I snapped, shifting under the covers. 

 

“Good girl.”

 

If I’d been standing, my knees would have buckled. “Turn the camera on, I want to see you.”

 

“Thomas, I’m not in the mood—”

 

“Nothing sexual, I promise. I just want to see you.” He sounded earnest enough, so I did as he asked, turning on my front camera. Of course the bedroom wasn’t completely dark from the hallway light, so he could see me easily. 

 

“Hey baby.”

 

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” I replied, turning on my belly and leaning the phone against the headboard. “You should be in bed.”

 

“I got home not long ago, actually. The meeting ran long. Thank you for the pictures,” Tom said, grinning. I could see he was in his apartment in Anchorage, lounging on the couch, a joint in hand. He looked tired, but genuine glad to see me. I knew for someone as possessive as he was, he didn’t like being away from me for any length of time. He was content to let me wander his various homes in peace, as long as he knew I was there. I thought I would have minded that, but instead I found it comforting. 

 

“I’m not usually one for that stuff,” I admitted, grinning. “You liked them?”

 

“My cock was hard all through the entire thing, so I’d say yes.”

 

I was still coming to terms with my own body, and despite liking myself, I was still very self conscious. Especially about my tummy. It was certainly an ego boost to hear Thomas so vocal about loving it. 

 

“I can’t sleep,” I said, resting my forehead on my arms. 

 

“You’re used to sleeping with me.” He replied confidently. “You’ll sleep better tomorrow. Speaking of, I’d like you to be waiting at my place.”

 

“What am I, a dog?” I snapped indignantly, with bite I didn’t really feel. 

 

“Dogs listen. You don’t.”

 

“Ha ha ha. Have you considered doing stand-up?”

 

“In the hot tub. Wear your bikini.” Thomas continued as though I hadn’t spoken, ignoring my dig. 

 

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit. It’s cold here.”

 

“Ask Scarlett. She designs things.”

 

“And how am I getting into your house? Smashing the window?”

 

“If you break my window Gemma, I’ll spank you until you can’t sit for a month,” he said nonchalantly, brushing a curly lock of black hair away from his forehead. It was getting long, he hadn’t cut it since I’d been here, and it was almost to his shoulders now. He was still in his work clothes, a sleek black button up that probably cost more than my monthly rent, and the gold watch he always wore when we went out. “I keep a spare key under the mat.”

 

“Mm. Okay.” I was getting sleepy now. Hearing his voice had put me at ease, and I wondered if he’d known I would have trouble sleeping, and had called despite being tired himself. “If I fall asleep, don’t be mad.”

 

“What kind of tyrant do you take me for, Gemma?” he replied, stifling a yawn. He asked about the movie, and I told him it’s premise, and he shook his head. “I don’t like scary movies. 

 

“I do.”

 

“Even though it’s keeping you awake.”

 

“Barely,” I replied, yawning. “I’m falling asleep now.”

 

“Goodnight, love.”

 

I wouldn’t realize until the next morning that he’d called me ‘love’ instead of his usual baby. 

 

—

 

I woke up slowly, scooting backwards, trying to find Thomas’ body heat. He radiated warmth like a furnace, and my feet were always cold. I hit the wall and my eyes popped open. _Oh yeah. He’s not here._

 

I rolled over, sighing. 

 

_Goodnight, love._

 

My eyes almost bugged out of my skull, my heart pounding. He hadn’t said he _loved_ me, but he’d called me _love._ That meant something, right? I knew from movies and television that sometimes British people said that, but he’d never used it with me before. He was fastidious about which words he used and when, especially since he didn’t talk all that much. He had to know that would mean something to me, didn’t he?

 

I threw my arm over my eyes, shielding them from the bright autumn sunlight pouring in through the window. I checked my phone to see the time: 9:45, I’d slept later than normal. I also had a text from Thomas.

 

_Don’t forget to get your swimsuit from Scarlett._

 

Scarlett’s designs were like…. modern vintage. She loved color and bold lines, but her silhouettes were simple and classic. I loved them. I texted her, asking if she worked today. 

 

_Yeah, but only until three. Why, what’s up?_

 

_I need a swimsuit._

 

_Oh my god, is he taking you on vacation?? :O I’ve got some cute stuff at the house already made. Maybe we can take a look!! Come over for 3:30, if I’m not home yet, mom will let you in!_

 

_I don’t know, to be honest. He said I should get one. So I’m getting one, lol. See you then_

 

I put the phone back on my night table, and rolled out of bed. I caught sight of my reflection in the window, and shuddered. My hair was a tangled rat’s nest. I would need all day to sort it out and detangle it; it needed a wash and some moisturizer, that was for sure. 

 

I headed for the shower and grabbed my wide toothed comb. With any luck, I’d be done before my 3:30 deadline. 

 

Hours later, and with my hair still damp but presentable, I rang Scarlett’s mother’s doorbell. A smallish woman answered, with a head of graying red hair, just like Scarlett’s. 

 

“Uh, hi. I’m Gemma. Scarlett said I—”

 

“Yes, yes, yes, come in!” she replied, her accent thick. I couldn’t help my eyebrows popping up. “Scarlett said she had a friend who will come.” She grasped my hand and tugged me into the house after her. I followed dumbly. “I am Melanie. Scarlett’s mother.” Her english wasn’t always in the correct tense, but she seemed happy enough to have me there. “You wait in her room, yes? She said you will come to see her designs.”

 

“Yes. I mean, yes that’s why I came.”

 

“Good, good! You want water? Coffee? I make.”

 

“Coffee would be nice,” I replied, remembering with some embarrassment what a long night I would be in for. “Thank you.”

 

She led me upstairs to Scarlett’s room. I was unsurprised to find it littered with clothes. The drafting table in the corner was covered with papers, and I wondered how she ever found anything in here. I sat on the bed and waited. I wasn’t there five minute before I heard the door slam.

 

“Mom, is she here already?”

 

“ _Ja_ , I make coffee for her. You bring it. My feet hurt.” I wanted to giggle—she reminded me of my own mother. 

 

“Thanks, mom.” I could hear Scarlett pounding up the stairs. “Hey!” Scarlett was still in her coat, having rushed upstairs. She shoved the mug of coffee into my hands, and stripped off her outerwear. “Sorry I’m late, I had to help this old guy pick out a watch. Stand up, Gem!” She instructed, tugging me to my feet. Scarlett walked around me, muttering. “High waisted, maybe… No… Bandeu tops…”

 

“Are you sizing me up or putting a spell on me?” I muttered, my arms tired from holding them stretched out. Scarlett clapped excitedly, ignoring my ill mannered protests. I actually didn’t _own_ a swimsuit. I’d lost about seventy pounds since the beginning of the year, and even though I’d all but replaced my entire wardrobe, I was still self conscious about being seen in swimwear. “Do you actually have anything that will… you know… fit me?” I said cautiously, and Scarlett rolled her eyes, darting over to the drafting table to pull out a tape measure. 

 

“I’m not a one note designer, Gem. I don’t think my body type is the only one that deserves to have cute clothes. Thomas obviously thinks you’re hot as balls.” she sniffed, wrapping it around my waist and muttering the numbers to herself. I felt my chest tighten, recalling his text. 

 

_No one gets to see that delicious body but me._

 

“Come, to the closet of wonders,” she said proudly, pushing me towards a door on the other side of the room. I stepped gingerly over piles of fabric and clothes of questionable cleanliness before pulling it open. Inside, there were more bolts of fabric, neatly stacked against the wall, and rows upon rows of clothes. I realized, somewhat belatedly, that Scarlett had taken over the master bedroom. 

 

“Did this used to be your parents room?” I asked, stepping inside the walk in closet. 

 

“Yeah, but mom has bad knees and Dad pretty much hangs out in the basement all day, so after I graduated, they gave it to me. Voluntarily, I might add,” she retorted, upon seeing my disbelieving expression. “Besides. I needed some place to stick all this shit.”

 

“No kidding.” 

 

Scarlett brushed past me to a dresser on the other side of the closet. She pulled open one of the drawers, before beginning to toss me various combinations of bikini tops and bottoms. “It’s all mix and match, so try everything! I’ll be waiting outside.”

 

“Are you sure this stuff is going to… fit?” I called, and she waved me off before closing the door. I grumbled, before stripping off my jeans and sliding into one of the bottoms. I had to admit, her clothes were well made. Clean seams, no loose threads, no shoddy stitching. It was part of the whole “color block” trend, with bold bright oranges, and neon yellow straps criss-crossing under my breasts. The matching bottoms weren’t high waisted, like all my other bikinis had been. It sat just on my hips, with cut out sides, and an almost-thong back, which was swallowed by my ass. I swallowed thickly, before peeking out of the closet.

 

“I don’t think this one fits, the bottoms are too small for my butt.”

 

“It’s a thong, it’s supposed to fit like that,” Scarlett quipped, scooting to the edge of the bed. “Come out, let me see!”

 

I stepped out, and she squealed loudly, the sound echoing in my ears. “Oh my god, it’s perfect!”

 

“But my belly…”

 

“Looks great.” Scarlett snapped, motioning for me to spin in a circle. “Imagine that, the first one you tried on, too. Okay, try the black and white one.”

 

“I thought that was a bikini.”

 

“No, it’s one piece. Just skimpy. Come on, you said Thomas would be back this evening, you don’t have a whole lot of time. I’m imagining he’s going to want to do you in the hot tub.”

 

“Scarlett!”

 

“What?”

 

“Shut the fuck _up!”_ I moaned, covering my heating face with my hands. It was bad enough that Thomas talked to me that way, I wasn’t about to endure it from my friend, too.

 

“Then go try on the thing!”

 

I escaped her gaze and hurried back into the closet, where I selected what I thought was a skimpy bikini top from the pile of clothes Scarlett had hurriedly shoved into my arms. She was right—it _was_ a one piece. The scrap of fabric felt flimsy in my hands, and I was worried that if I tried to put it on it would tear in two.

 

“Are you sure?” I called, and I heard her groan tiredly from the bed. 

 

“It’s almost four, Gemma!”

 

It took me a moment to figure out how to even get into the damned thing, and when I did, I was even more horrified. My breasts fit comfortably in the white sling top—though the sides were dangerously exposed— and again, my ass was barely covered by the black bottoms, and it left my entire stomach and back exposed. I didn’t bother asking her about it’s size when I exited, and Scarlett grinned.

 

“Okay, I propose you take them both,” she said, digging around on her desk before producing a paper bag. 

 

“I might as well be naked!” I replied, and she just snickered. “I don’t look…?” I didn’t finish, trailing off, motioning at my stomach and back. “Come on, be honest.”

 

“Gemma if you looked bad, I’d tell you. When have I _ever_ lied to be decent?” 

 

She was right. Just the other night Scarlett had told Allie her new haircut made her forehead look huge. 

 

“How much?”

 

“I dunno, I haven’t priced out any of this stuff yet. Let’s say twenty bucks and all the sordid details.”

 

“I’d pay forty not to have to tell you anything.”

 

“Twenty five, and vague details, that’s the highest I’m going for your unemployed ass,” Scarlett retorted, and I rolled my eyes, digging my wallet out of my purse and tossing it at her before returning to the walk in to put my clothes back on. 

 

Ten minutes later, I was hurrying out the door after thanking Melanie for the coffee. my phone buzzed as I drove. I checked it at a stop light, and it was a message from Thomas.

 

_I’ll be home in an hour._

 

I sped the rest of the way to his mountaintop abode, keeping my eyes peeled for police. The last thing I needed was to pay off a ticket, too. 

 

The key was under the mat, just like Thomas said it would be and I let myself in, vaguely expecting alarms to ring at any moment. I heated up the jacuzzi on the back deck, before sliding the cover back on to keep the heat inside. I headed for the master bedroom, my paper bag clutched gingerly in my hands. I stood naked in the master bath, holding each swimsuit up against my body.

 

“Breathe, stupid. Get over it. He likes you. Loves your body. Seen you naked,” I said to myself, staring at my own face in the mirror. It was already starting to get dark—the sun wouldn’t completely set for another two hours or so, but it was certainly lower in the sky, and it would be even colder outside. I decided to go with the black and white one, and stepped into it, adjusting the straps and tugging it into place before pinning my kinky hair up into a pineapple. I didn’t feel like washing it twice in one day. As I finished, I heard a car in the driveway. 

 

Thomas. 

 

I rushed outside, and lit the candles I’d stolen from various locations all around the house before splashing loudly into the hot tub. I heard the car door slam, but instead of walking straight around to the back, I heard him go for the front door. I rolled my eyes—he was keeping me waiting on purpose, despite knowing that I missed him. 

 

Prick. He was probably taking his sweet time changing into his trunks, too. I slid deeper into the hot water, until it covered my shoulders, basking in the warmth. After what seemed like forever, I finally spotted him through the sliding doors, heading for the back porch. I stood up, shivering, but wanting to show off my purchase. He slid the door open, and grinned at me wolfishly. I couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“I see you enjoyed your shopping trip.”

 

“That’s a liberal use of the word ‘enjoy’, but it’s not entirely inaccurate,” I replied snarkily, resting a hand on my bare hip. He didn’t bother trying to hide the way his eyes dragged slowly up my form, licking his lips hungrily. I knew my piercings were pressing hard against the fabric of the top, too. 

 

“Turn around, let me see.”

 

Balancing on the bench, I turned slowly, knowing he wanted an eyeful of my ample butt in the monokini Scarlett had basically given away. I glanced at him over my shoulder, grinning. “You like it?”

 

“Couldn’t have picked a better one myself.”

 

“Wait until you see the other one.” 

 

Thomas didn’t waste any time climbing in beside me. Standing in the center of the hot tub, the water came up to my shoulders. He’d obviously picked the deepest one he could find, being freakishly tall. I crawled onto his lap, my knees splayed on either side of his thighs, and he brought his arms up to encircle my waist.

 

“I missed you.”

 

I was surprised at the openness of his statement, but I welcomed it. 

 

“Did you?” I said playfully, tapping the side of my chin with my index finger, as if wondering whether I missed him, too. “I found my time alone wonderfully refreshing.” He chuckled, pinching my exposed belly. I squealed, wiggling in his arms. He tugged me forward, and water splashed onto the deck behind him. I was pressed flush against the hard planes of his chest, my chin resting on his shoulder. His hands dropped to my ass, squeezing it through my swimsuit. 

 

“I’ll take you to the beach, so you can show off your new assets,” he murmured, his fingers straying beneath the hem. 

 

“Won’t you get jealous? Scarlett said you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off,” I said softly, knowing he’d hear me. 

 

“Well she was right. And no. I want everyone to see,” his voice was quiet, but it filled my ears as one of his fingers stroked my clit. “And know that I’m the only one who can touch you.” I moaned quietly in response. I could feel him hardening underneath me, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he would be pushing into me. It had only been two days, but I still felt bereft. It was strange, I’d never been this way with other partners, and my ex had argued that I was frigid.

 

_Obviously that wasn’t true at all_ , I thought to myself, only slightly embarrassed by the noises tearing their way out of my throat. 

 

“You’re so possessive,” I said, my voice irritatingly breathy as another finger joined his first. My head lolled back, and Thomas attached his mouth to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise that I was sure Scarlett would ask lewd questions about. 

 

“I don’t share.” He growled, his teeth finding my skin. I yelped, grinding down on his hardened cock. 

 

“Ah! Do you have to be so fucking rough all the time?” I panted, though I didn’t really mind. “I’m going to be going on job interviews, I can’t show up all bruised up.”

 

“Then they’ll know you belong to someone else.” He replied nonchalantly, reaching between us to slip his cock out of his shorts. He rubbed tantalizingly against my slick pussy, his movements causing the water to roil around us. 

 

“Stop teasing me,” I whined, angling my hips, trying unsuccessfully to slip him into me. He chuckled, grasping my hips with his large hands, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass. 

 

“Impatient little girl,” he murmured, trailing kisses along my chest. “How badly do you want daddy’s cock? Tell me.”

 

“Please,” I begged, groaning as he nipped my shoulder. “So bad, daddy… I-I need it,” I fumbled over the words, embarrassed both by how wanton I sounded, and by how true it was. I wanted him inside me: badly. He kneaded my ass, before reaching up to tug down the top of my swimsuit, freeing my breasts. They bobbed just on the surface, and he moaned softly, cupping one of them and twisting my nipple between his long fingers. 

 

“I had to leave my meeting,” he muttered, and at first, I didn’t understand what he was talking about. 

 

“Huh?” I replied, my foggy brain not registering the reference.

 

“Those fucking pictures, Gemma… I was so hard, I had to leave.” he said softly, seemingly mesmerized by my tits, playing with one, then the other; pushing them together obscenely so that the piercings clacked softly. “Go to the bathroom, take care of myself. I wanted to drive home last night,” he groaned, finally— _finally—_ pushing the head of his engorged cock into my throbbing sex. 

 

“Mmm, daddy!” I gasped, rolling my hips into his, my pussy clenching around him. “Fuck!”

 

“I was going to come home, and come over,” he continued, and I braced myself against his shoulders, feeling his muscles bunch underneath my touch. “I bet I could have come in and slid. Right. In.” He punctuated every word with a punishing thrust, his cock pressing roughly against my cervix. I tried to stifle my moans against his shoulder, my teeth digging into his skin. Thomas seemed completely nonplussed, focusing entirely on forcing his cock in and out of my dripping center. I wondered idly if he could tell the difference between my wetness and the water. “You don’t need to be quiet, baby,” he drawled, forcing a loud gasp from my parted lips with a particularly hard thrust. “There’s no one for miles.”

 

“Fuck, Thomas, so good,” I panted, feeling the beginnings of my climax coil deep in my belly. “Please…” I begged, not sure what I was asking for. He growled, angling his cock inside me.

 

“Yes, Gemma,” he said my name rolling off of his perfect lips like oil, “Come. Come all over daddy’s cock.” He pinched my ass roughly, before sliding his hand between my cheeks and probing my anus with a single finger. I came hard, clamping down on his rock hard cock, unable to stifle the shriek that tore itself from my throat. Thomas came with a muffled yell, holding my hips tight against his own as he jerked inside me. I could feel every pulse, emptying more and more of his seed into my tight pussy.

 

He held me like that for a few minutes, placing light kisses on my shoulders as we recovered. “It should be a sin for you to feel this good,” he groaned, toying with an escaped coil of my hair. 

 

“I’m pretty sure premarital sex is considered a sin, so you’re not too far off base.” Thomas chuckled in response. He leaned up to kiss my lips, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I clenched, unintentionally, and he groaned, the sound vibrating against my mouth. 

 

“You’re so tight already, love,” he said lowly, still unwilling to let me move. “You don’t need to do that.” I was about to snap at him, but when I met his eyes, they were twinkling with mirth, his mouth turned slightly upward in a playful smile. 

 

“You’re an ass.”

 

“It’s what keeps you around,” he replied smugly. 

 

We stayed in the hot tub until the sun went down, watching the stars wink into existence one by one over the tops of the trees. 

 

“I booked our tickets last night.” Tom said suddenly, surprising me. We hadn’t talked about it since our quasi-altercation the other day, and I’d been loathe to bring it up again, more out of embarrassment than anything else. Of course, Thomas being Thomas, had just gone ahead and done what he wanted. I wasn’t angry—he _was_ right. I had to take my rental car back to Anchorage at some point—and pay for the overdue days—and it just made sense to fly to New York so we could drive my car back, with Mae in the backseat.

 

_Oh how the tables have turned, Gemma,_ I thought to myself, leaning my head against his shoulder. _Now_ ** _he’s_** _the reasonable one, and I’m the one being stubborn._

 

“What date’s the flight?” I asked, turning to look up at him. He was staring out at the woods, but at the sound of my voice, he turned to face me. 

 

“Next week Thursday.”

 

I could tell he was waiting for me to say something. “Thank you, Tom.” I replied earnestly, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “I appreciate it.” And I _did_ appreciate it—I was just worried that one of three things would happen; my family would overwhelm him, my mother wouldn’t like him, or worse, _Mae_ wouldn’t like him. I hadn’t really told him, but Mae was my service dog. She calmed my anxiety, guarded me, and helped ease me out of depressive spells. He’d never questioned why I needed to do all of this for a dog, and I appreciated that too, more than anything. 

 

“Let’s go inside. Your fingers are getting prune-y.”

 

—

 

“If you don’t slow down, you’re going to kill us both.”

 

“I know how to drive, thank you very much, king asshat,” I snapped, keeping my eyes on the road. Thomas was strapped into the passenger seat of my rental car, his long legs bent at an uncomfortable looking angle. We’d left late for the airport, which I refused to take the blame for, considering I was already packed and ready to go the night before. Thomas had had to take a call for work, and it had put us almost an hour behind schedule. My mother had thoroughly trained me to be at least two hours early for all my national flights, and now, with any luck, we’d get there about half an hour before boarding. 

 

“It wasn’t a question of knowing _how_ to drive,” He responded with equal vitriol. “But can you read the speedometer?”

 

“If you don’t be quiet, I’m going to stop this fucking car right here in the middle of the goddamn road and kick you out!” I threatened, only half kidding. I didn’t realize what a backseat driver Thomas was, and all through town he’d reminded me to stop at red lights, to slow down, to speed up. It was ticking me off—it was worse than driving with my own mother. Blessed silence graced my ears, and I reached down to flip on the radio. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him open his mouth to speak, and I preemptively cut him off. “If you say one word Thomas I swear I will hit you so damn hard.”

 

“If you don’t want the Anchorage police to drag our burnt remains from the smoking husk of twisted metal that will be this car once you crash it, you’ll let me deal with the radio.” He replied smoothly, unchallenged by my threat. This, I let him do, listening as the music became clearer as he fiddled with the dial. 

 

“Wait, leave it, I love this song.”

 

“Are you serious?”

 

I chose to ignore him, instead singing along as I turned the music up to drown out his complaints. Thomas liked old music, mostly rock and indie stuff. Which I also liked, but most of my playlists contained newer style hip-hop and R&B, most of which he said sounded like people talking with their mouths full.

 

_I buy a new car for the bitch,_

_I tear down the mall with the bitch_

_You can’t even talk to the bitch_

 

“What does that even mean?” he muttered bad naturedly from the passenger seat, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “He says bitch a lot.”

 

“So do you.”

 

_7500 on a St. Laurent jacket,_

_Bitch be careful where you dumpin’ your ashes_

 

“I listen to your music when you drive,” I said pointedly, reaching over to pat his thigh. “It’s only fair.”

 

By the time we reached the airport, he’d at least stopped complaining about my taste in music. I figured it was his way of dealing with his nervousness about meeting my mother—she was picking us up at Newark Airport, and  we’d be spending the week at her house while packing up my place . We got there just before they stopped accepting baggage, and checked in hurriedly. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that Thomas wouldn’t fly coach, so I was completely surprised when our tickets read first class.

 

“You booked us first class seats? Thomas that had to cost a fortune.”

 

“I’d hardly call it a fortune.”

 

“I would have been fine in coach,” I replied, handing my passport and ticket to the stewardess, who waved us through without issue. The flight was sparsely populated, and there wasn’t even anyone else in the entire first class cabin. Upon reaching our seats, I couldn’t stop my mouth. 

 

“Jesus fucking christ, what airline is this? Money incorporated?” I said, and Thomas snorted. 

 

“Lufthansa, actually.” Because of the way the seats were set up, we weren’t directly next to one another; because next to each seat was a slim twin bed, protruding from the wall of the aircraft. Despite my reservations, the seat was comfortable, and I settled in. The flight was going to be long, almost ten hours, with a layover in Chicago. about three hours in, I got bored of sitting in my seat, and moved onto the little twin bed. Almost instantly, Thomas was in my seat, stretching his long legs out in front of him. We hadn’t really been able to talk without yelling across the aisle at each other, and I knew that was bothering him. I was fine laying on the bed for the duration of the flight if it meant him being physically closer to me. The in-flight wifi was barely working, so I couldn’t even amuse myself by wasting time on the internet. “Hey.”

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and I sighed, laying my arm over my eyes dramatically. 

 

“Headachey, but otherwise okay. You?”

 

“Better, now that the stewardess isn’t checking on us every five minutes,” he replied, resting his hand on my thigh. I’d noticed she’d been lingering over Thomas, and had done my very best _not_ to act like a jealous bitch—I hadn’t expected the surge of anger upon seeing her repeatedly offering him drinks, giggling madly at his one word responses. 

 

“By ‘us’ I assume you mean you,” I replied cheekily. I wasn’t stupid—Thomas was incredibly attractive, I couldn’t be surprised when other women threw themselves at him. Was this how Thomas felt about me? “I thought she was going to pour wine on you just to make you take your shirt off.” He chuckled, squeezing my leg. 

 

“Ah, I see. Are you jealous, baby girl?” Tom said, his voice full of laughter. 

 

“A little,” I admitted, turning on my side to face him. 

 

“Don’t be.”

 

As they say, _speak of the devil, and he shall appear_. I opened my mouth to respond, and before I could form a single word, in came the same flight attendant we’d just been talking about. 

 

“Oh, I see you’ve met!” She said cheerfully, her eyes unabashedly drinking in Thomas’ prone form relaxed in my now vacated seat. “I was just coming to see if you… needed anything.” The real question she was asking was written all across the smug smile playing on her overly red lips, and in the hooded gaze she was shooting at him. Her name tag read “Chelsea”. 

 

“I’m fine, thank you, Chelsea. But my girlfriend would love some water,” he said smoothly, flashing a cold smile at her. Perhaps you forgot she was here while making your rounds.” Her face turned an ugly shade of red—remarkably close to the shade of lipstick she was wearing—an she muttered an apology. I appreciated the show, but I still didn’t feel any better. Someone like Thomas was very much out of my league, both in terms of looks, and class. I didn’t know much about his past, but it was obvious he came from money. My mother had only been able to buy her first house after I left for college, which said a good bit about _my_ background. 

 

“What’s wrong, Gemma? I said you didn’t need to be jealous,” he replied, his eyes questioning. 

 

“That’s not the issue,” I sighed, sitting up and pulling my knees to my chest. “The issue is that we don’t even _look_ like we should be together. Like, look at me. I’m a fat—”

 

“You’re not fat, Gem.”

 

“Unemployed, barely middle class writer,” I finished, ignoring his interjection. “We’re from two totally different worlds.” I said, finally voicing my concerns. They’d been weighing on me ever since we’d decided we were an item, and as much as I tried not to give any credence to those thoughts, they hadn’t gone away. 

 

“Go to the bathroom, Gemma.” Thomas replied, not even responding to what I’d said. I felt anger burn in my chest. How could he dismiss me like that?

 

“What? What the fuck, Thomas—”

 

“Just go. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

 

I stepped over him, and stomped down the aisle to the bathroom, where I closed the door behind me, fuming. I counted the minutes on my phone, chewing my lip while I waited for him so I could chew him out. The bathroom was _huge_ for a plane, and even had a fucking stand up shower stall, with wood paneling. There was a slim bench running along the side of the little room, with towel racks, a full size mirror, and a stack of towels, along with miniature shampoo, conditioner, and lotion, that I was sure would be replaced after we exited. Just as I was considering leaving and giving Thomas a piece of my very irritated mind, he slid into the bathroom, locking the door securely behind him. 

 

“What was that about? I’m trying to talk to you and you just dismiss me like a fucking kid—” My complaints were silenced as his lips pressed against mine, his tongue demanding entry to my mouth. All the words I wanted to say died in my throat as he pressed me against the wall, his fingers digging into my ass. 

 

“You talk too fucking much,” he muttered, going to work on pulling my t-shirt over my head. 

 

“And you,” I panted, lifting my hips so he could tug my jeans down, “Should learn how to listen.”

 

He pulled my panties down, before laving a wet kiss on my inner thigh. He lifted me so that I was balanced with one leg thrown over his shoulder as he buried his face in my pussy, his lips finding my clit instantly. 

 

“I don’t care what anyone thinks, Gemma,” he said, his breath against me sending chills up my spine. Thomas slid two long fingers into my aching cunt, scissoring and curling them inside me, making my legs shake. I wondered if I would be able to remain standing. I gasped as he thrust harder, and I moaned.

 

_Probably not._

 

“I don’t give a fuck if silly little cunts like _Chelsea_ ,” He spat her name out like a curse as I moaned and shook in his arms, “Think we belong together or not. God you taste _so fucking good_ , Gemma.” I knew he had to be painfully hard, he always got that way when he ate me out, but Thomas was solely focused on me. I felt bad about yelling at him— _of course_ he was planning on comforting me in typical Tom fashion.“All I care about,” he said, laving his tongue against my swollen clit, “Is the fact that I can make you do this.” He curled his fingers inside me and pressed hard on that rough patch of skin behind my pubic bone, rocketing me into orgasm. My knee buckled, and he caught me, still shaking and laid me down on the floor of the airplane bathroom. Thomas was too impatient to take off all of my clothes, plus his, and he merely kicked off his jeans and briefs before lining his cock up with my spasming entrance. 

 

He groaned loudly as he slid in, and I tried in vain to hush him.

 

“Uh—Thomas they’ll hear you,” I moaned, unable to stop my hips coming up to meet his own. 

 

“I don’t give a shit,” he growled, latching his teeth onto my neck as he thrust hard against me. “Good girl, Gemma,” he moaned, as I rested my ankles on his hips, driving him even deeper inside me. “You love daddy’s cock in you, don’t you? You feel so good,” Thomas’ wild eyes bore into mine, and I bit my lip, wanting to look away from the intensity, but knowing he loved it. “Tell me you’re mine, Gemma,” he panted, the muscles in his back bunching under my hands as his cock split me open.

 

“I’m yours, Thomas,” I panted, feeling my orgasm approaching quickly. I clenched around him, his name falling from my lips like a prayer as I came hard, my eyes fluttering shut and a loud moan tearing from my throat. He thrust against me once, twice more before finding his own release, coming inside me like he always did. We laid together for a moment, before I fidgeted underneath him, my body still hot.

 

“We should clean up before Chelsea reports us for disorderly conduct,” I murmured against his ear. 

 

“Can you not say her name while I’m balls deep in you, Gemma?” he said tiredly, planting a kiss on my forehead. “And welcome.” He helped me up, and tucked himself back into his jeans while I cleaned myself up at the sink, trying my best not to look thoroughly fucked. 

 

“Welcome to what?” I replied, glancing at his smug face in the mirror. 

 

“The mile high club.” He said snottily, and pointed to the door. “I’ll come out in a few minutes.”

 

“Welcome to you too,” I responded, and he laughed. 

 

“I’m already a member, but thank you.” I snorted, and swatted at him before peeking out the door. Chelsea was nowhere in sight, and I crept back to my seat, laying down on the little bed again. After a few minutes, Thomas emerged too, and spread the free blanket over me urging me to go to sleep. 

 

When we finally landed, we collected our bags at the carousel, and made for the arrivals gate. My mother was already there, holding up a sign that said “Thomas & Gemma” in large, handwritten letters. I swallowed nervously, but Thomas grasped my hand, threading his fingers comfortably through mine. I realized that we’d never held hands before—we were physically intimate before we were emotionally intimate. It seemed we were doing everything backwards in this relationship.

 

I approached my mom, waving. 

 

“Hey, ma!” 

 

“Gem!” She practically tackled me, sweeping me into a crushing hug. She was even shorter than I was, and I grinned at Thomas over the top of her head. 

 

“Ma, this is Thomas,” I said slowly, prompting her to release me. She appraised him, looking him up and down. 

 

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Hendricks,” He said, extending his hand. She shook it, before looking at me and speaking as though he wasn’t even there. 

 

“He’s tall.”

 

I couldn’t stop the peal of laughter that burst from my chest. 

 

 

 

 

 

_To be continued…._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's moving a little slowly, but I promise, Thomas and Gemma are about to have a *time* in New York.


	8. F is for Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! No I haven't forgotten this fic, and yes I fully intend on finishing it! It may end up being a little shorter than the original 25 chapters, but still! This chapter was kind of hard to get out, but hopefully there's enough plot (and some nice smut lol) to get us through to the next chapter! Enjoy!

 

 

 

“Gemma, I set up the guest room, there’s sheets and clean towels and pillows.”

 

“Thanks, mom, you didn’t have to do all of that.” 

 

“We appreciate it, Ms. Hendricks.”

 

“So respectful!” my mother exclaimed, grinning at Thomas in the rearview mirror. “You could certainly teach this one,” she jerked her head in my direction, “a thing or two.”

 

“I learned from the best, Ma,” I retorted, earning myself a hard slap on the thigh. “Ow!”

 

Thomas chuckled from the back seat, and I glared at him. “Don’t encourage her.”

 

“You don’t have to call me Ms. Hendricks, Thomas. Rebecca is fine,” my mom continued on as though I had never spoken. “Gem will show you where to put the bags.”

 

The house looked different since I’d last seen it, and I was struck by how long it had really been since I’d been home. My mom and I often grabbed lunch together, or she came by my place, but I hadn’t been to the house in what felt like years. The rose bushes I’d helped her plant before I moved out were huge now, and in full bloom at the end of autumn. The pool she and her boyfriend had been working on putting in was now fully finished, from what I could see of the back yard as we entered. 

 

“Where’s Kyra? And Horace?”

 

My younger sister still lived at home, and I had no doubt that she’d take great pleasure in needling me for all the sordid details of my new relationship. I was kind of glad she wasn’t home—it would give Thomas some time to settle in. He hid his discomfort well, but I knew that being with my family would put him way out of his element. 

 

“Kyra has class today, and Horace is still at work.”

 

“You’ve adjusted completely to suburban life, I see,” I replied, gesturing around the foyer. Thomas entered behind me, both our bags slung easily across his broad shoulders. 

 

“Ah! Gem, was the kitchen done the last time you were here? Come, let me show you!” she grasped my hand and tugged me down the hall, and I looked back at Thomas apologetically. 

 

“Be right back!”

 

The kitchen was beautiful, and now, fully renovated. Before my mother could start listing off all the construction work they’d done, a loud bark caught my attention. My heart dropped.

 

“Mae!”

 

Mae didn’t like strangers, and she especially didn’t like strange men. She was a big dog with a mean bark, and though she’d never bitten anyone, I knew that if she attacked Thomas, there was no way he would allow her into his house. I took off back down the hallway, but stopped short when I saw them. I’d fully expected Mae to be in attack mode—bullying Tom back out the door. 

 

Instead, he was on his knees, rubbing her belly. The pitbull’s tongue was lolling out of her mouth as she kicked her legs happily, rolling around on her back.

 

“The famous Mae,” Thomas replied, scratching an especially sensitive spot, making her leg thump wildly. “What a good girl,” he said, looking up at me with a knowing smirk that made me go hot from my toes to the top of my head. “Just like her mommy.”

 

“Oh shut up,” I snapped, unable to hid the pleased smirk that graced my features as Mae jumped to attention at the sound of my voice. She tossed herself away from Thomas and barreled after me, jumping up and hitting me square in the stomach. I stumbled backward, holding my dog. 

 

“Mae-mae! You missed mommy? I bet you missed mommy!” I cooed, ignoring Thomas’ scoff at the whiny quality my voice took on. “What a good baby! Yes mommy missed you so much!” 

 

I knelt down, still scratching her between the ears, just how she liked it. I kissed the tip of her nose, which she returned with a sloppy lick across my face. “Grandma fed you too much, I just know it,” I muttered, patting her belly. I glanced up at Thomas, who was watching our reunion with no small amount of interest. 

 

“She’s a pitt.”

 

“Is that a problem?” I said defensively, waiting for the string of “bully breed” and “violent tendencies” comments to come pouring out of his mouth. He shook his head quickly, holding his hands up. 

 

“Just an observation.”

 

I’d had to fight my landlord just to allow her to live with me—there wasn’t a no dogs policy, but when I’d brought her home, he almost had a fit. 

 

“Good.” I stood up, dusting myself off. Thomas leaned down to kiss me, but before he could get too close, Mae wedged herself in between us, panting happily. I couldn’t help but laugh, while Thomas rolled his eyes.

 

“Perfect. Now I’m going to get cock blocked by the dog.”

 

“Oh don’t be a baby,” I said, slapping at his arm. 

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” my mother replied from behind us, and we jumped apart. “I know you’re adults, but please not in my hallway.”

 

“Mom, don’t be gross. No one’s fornicating in the hallway.”

 

“Good, or I’ll make up the couch for him.”

 

I didn’t want her to make good on that threat, considering the horror stories Kyra had already imparted to me about bringing home boyfriends. Apparently mom had caught her getting hot and heavy with one of her many flings, and now had a “no closed doors” policy that I strongly hoped did not apply to me. Thomas wasn’t one for propriety, and I knew he would be attempting to seduce me one way or the other. The last thing I needed was my mother—or worse, Horace—walking by at 3am to use the bathroom, and catching Thomas going full daddy-mode. 

 

 

“You have a lovely home, Rebecca,” Thomas said smoothly, and my mother beamed at him. I was glad he’d taken the attention off of me, and I wandered away to check out the yard. _He’ll be fine for ten minutes, right?_

 

I remembered when she’d bought the house, and the backyard was a mess of overgrown weeds and rotting wood. Now, it was beautiful, a completed pool, lawn chairs, and plush green grass that I was willing to bet was Horace’s pride and joy. I started towards the pool, and dipped my toes in after slipping out of my shoes. 

 

_Oh, it’s heated._

 

Mae came barreling after me, jumping headlong into the grass and rolling around happily. “Come, Mae.” At the sound of my voice, her ears perked to attention, and she trotted over, still panting. “Come sit down, you silly puppy.” I stroked her head, and kissed her snout again. “We’re moving, Mae. Alaska. You’ll like it, lots of snow. More space than the apartment.”

 

“Much more space, I imagine.” Thomas’ cool voice interrupted my monologue, and I turned to see him leaned in the doorway, his arms folded. I didn’t get many opportunities to admire him, the way he tilted his head down to let me know he was addressing me, the way he ran his long fingers through his hair, the way his lips quirked up in that smile that was just for me. 

 

“And this is your step father. He’s rude.”

 

“Your mother thinks I have impeccable manners.”

 

“It’s not her fault you duped her,” I retorted, watching as he strode across the lawn and sat beside me, though he declined to trail his legs in the water. “Where’s mom?”

 

“She had to go to the store.”

 

“Oh my god, she’s probably going to make enough food to last the winter. I hope you’re hungry.”

 

He licked his lips suggestively, before leaning down to purr in my ear.

 

“Always.”

 

—

 

When my sister got home, I knew immediately. Mainly because she called rudely up the stairs, “Stop fucking and let me meet him!” 

 

To Kyra’s credit, we weren’t actually fucking, though I suspected Thomas was trying to lead us in that direction. I’d shown him our room, and was in the process of putting our things in the bathroom when she arrived. I practically jumped down the stairs, throwing myself into her arms as Tom watched from the top of the steps.

 

“You little shit!” I exclaimed, hugging her tightly. 

 

“I missed you, you asshole,” she said, sniffling. “I can’t believe you’re moving away and leaving me here with Mom and Horace,” Kyra replied, finally letting go of me. “They’re going to drive me crazy.”

 

“Move out.”

 

“I’m broke,” she snapped, swatting at me. She turned to leer at Thomas, and immediately I felt self conscious. Kyra had always been “the pretty one”; she was skinnier than me, with long hair that fell in smooth curls down her back—my type 4 hair had never held a curl like that in my life. She was taller too, with the athletic build she’d inherited from our father. “So this is him, huh? Damn you’re fine.”

 

“Kyra!”

 

“What? You want me to say he’s ugly?” She snapped, grinning. Thomas chuckled, and I shot him a look that promised torture. 

 

“Thank you, Kyra. I’m Thomas.”

 

“Yeah, everyone in this house knows who you are,” Kyra replied, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “Mom’s been talking about this for a week. Where is she, anyway?”

 

“Store.”

 

“Oh god.”

 

“I know, right?”

 

Thomas watched our exchange with laid back interest, before finally descending the steps with Mae in tow to wrap his arm around my waist. _He knows me way too fucking well,_ I thought to myself, leaning into him. “I bet she’s making oxtail.” I said, licking my lips. If there was one thing my mother had imparted to me, it was her cooking skill. 

 

“Fuck, I’m definitely going to need to smoke before we eat,” she muttered and I rolled my eyes. Between my stoner sister and pothead boyfriend, I was probably going to spend the rest of the week in a dizzy haze.

 

“Ky, you’re still smoking?” I said disapprovingly, putting my hands on my hips. But before I could go into full older sibling mode, Thomas snorted, and spoke before I could finish. 

 

“You’re in no position to reprimand her Gemma.”

 

“Ha!” Kyra replied triumphantly, shouldering her backpack. “Got ‘em!”

 

“Shut the hell up, both of you,” I snapped, digging my elbow into Tom’s side. Kyra edged her way between us to the foot of the stairs.

 

“I’m gonna go put my bag down. Maybe we can manage a couple of bong rips before they get home.”

 

She jogged up the steps, leaving Thomas and I alone. I rounded on him. “She’s twenty, she doesn’t need to be smoking as much as you do,” I replied, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. Thomas trailed behind me shrugging.

 

“You mean as much as _we_ do.” 

 

“Cram it, daddy long legs. If I smoked as much as you did, I think I’d probably be dead.” I retorted, reaching into the cabinet for a glass. I didn’t hear him cross the room, and almost dropped the cup I was holding when he pressed himself against me. I stiffened, and was unable to help my hips pressing backward into his. He chuckled, before leaning forward to brush his lips against my ear. 

 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

 

Before I could sputter that I hadn’t started anything, Kyra flounced into the kitchen. “Am I… interrupting something?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow. I rolled my eyes.

 

“Definitely not.”

 

She held the bong aloft triumphantly, gesturing to it with one hand. “Okay then. I present to you, Madame Jolie.”

 

“You named your bong?” I asked incredulously, and Kyra stared at me, mouth agape. 

 

“You must not know me at all,” she replied, walking to the sink to fill the glass chamber with water. “We’ve got to smoke outside. I have a feeling mom knows, but Horace is a totally different story,” Kyra said, gesturing to the patio door. We arranged ourselves in a small circle—or rather, we tried to. Before my butt could touch the grass, Thomas yanked me into his lap, earning us an incredulous look from my sister. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut, and proceeded to pack the bowl. I wanted to elbow him—there was no need to be so possessive, not around my little sister of all people, but apparently Tom hadn’t gotten that memo. “We’d better hurry. They’ll probably be getting home soon.”

 

I took the bong, trying to remember the last time I’d hit one. _Probably college._ I lit the bowl, inhaling, watching as the chamber filled with smoke, before pulling the slide and doing my best to clear it. 

 

I exhaled with a loud cough, and Thomas chuckled behind me. 

 

“God, you still have such baby lungs,” Kyra replied, laughing. I tried to respond, but I couldn’t stop coughing, my angry words stuck in my throat. Immediately the buzz hit me, far faster than any of Thomas’ joints. I knew he was somewhat of a purist—he didn’t like edibles, pipes, or bongs, for whatever reason. He didn’t pass up his bong rip though, and inhaled about as gracefully as you could, before exhaling the smoke through his nostrils and passing it back to my sister. We were on our fourth rotation when we heard a car pull into the driveway. Kyra cursed, and quickly stashed her bong in the bushes, after emptying the ashes in the bowl into the grass. 

 

“How do you do this and not feel like a naughty child?” I asked her, laughing. “At least we don’t have to hide,” I gestured between Thomas and myself. 

 

“The money I save on rent buys weed, so it’s a pretty good deal,” she said, shrugging. We made our way back inside to sit at the kitchen table, just as my mother and her boyfriend burst into the room, carrying enough bags of groceries to feed a small starving village. Horace was short, almost as short as I was, and I was only 5’3. He had graying black hair, and a thick, muscular frame. Mom, however, was even shorter than me, so it balanced out just fine. 

 

“Horace, this is Gemma’s boyfriend, Thomas.” My mother said, dumping a few of her bags on the table. “Gemma, put these up.”

 

“It’s like I never left,” I muttered, before rising to do as I was bid. Thomas towered over Horace, who for his part, didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. 

 

“ _Hola_ , _Tómas_ , it’s so nice to finally see Gemma dating! I tell her, I say ‘ _find a nice boy’_ , but she just wants to work.” Horace had been with my mother almost eight years now, and he was good for her. They weren’t married yet, but I had a feeling he was going to be asking soon. 

 

“Are we just dragging me through the mud today, or what?” I grumbled, gesturing around the room as I put groceries into the fridge. 

 

“Leave the oxtails out” was the only response I got. I emptied the grocery bags, listening as my parents grilled Thomas on every aspect of his life.

 

“And what do you do? Gem, two onions.”

 

“I’m the CEO of a Marketing Firm in Anchorage, it’s called _Skyserve._ ”

 

For her part, my mother didn’t seem too impressed, although Horace nodded in approval. “You make good money?” She asked, pulling a cutting board out of a drawer. I wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear. I knew this would happen—I’d even prepped Thomas for it—but that didn’t stop me from groaning. 

 

“Mom.”

 

“What? I’m just asking!”

 

“It’s okay, Gemma,” Thomas replied, nodding in my direction. “It’s a six figure salary.”

 

“And how did you two meet?” Horace asked, steering the conversation into even more deadly waters. Thomas glanced at me and I shook my head slightly and gave a quick shrug—I wasn’t sure how to make our meeting sound more parent friendly than “He picked me up on the side of the road and we hated each other. Then we fucked and still hated each other”. And then there was the part where I’d told a little white lie to shield my mother from worrying, which she would no doubt remember and bring up as soon as Thomas told her. My parents were facing away from me, so I gestured wildly with my hands, trying to catch his attention. Kyra snickered behind the palm of her hand, but didn’t move to help me, so I could only watch helplessly as Thomas revealed my half truth.

 

“We… I helped Gemma when she got stuck in the storm.”

 

“You drove her to Anchorage?”

 

Thomas was incredibly intelligent, and by now, he’d figured out that he’d shared information he wasn’t supposed to. He glanced at me and I frowned, shrugging.

 

_Oh, now he fucking looks at me._

 

“No, I let her stay with me. Until the storm passed.”

 

“Gemma you said you went to Anchorage!” My mother rounded on me, her hands on her hips. I was too old to get in trouble, but I still shifted nervously on my feet anyway.

 

“Oh come on, Ma. You know you would have lost it if I said I was having to hole up with a stranger. I just didn’t want you to worry. Everything’s fine, it turned out fine,” I said placatingly, gesturing to Thomas with one hand. I could tell she wanted to say something else, but thought better of it—probably to keep the peace. I got my explosive temper from my mother, after all. Thomas had just gotten there, I didn’t want him to see us fight.

 

“So. I’ll make the rice,” Horace said, breaking the silence. Kyra scoffed. 

 

“I’ll do it. You always burn it, dad.”

 

I stiffened. Kyra hadn’t been calling him “dad” when I moved out. We rarely talked about Horace when we were alone together, so it had never come up. I glanced at her, and she was shooing him away from the counter, going to do the job herself. I liked Horace well enough—he was a decent guy, he was good to mom, but… Perhaps the word just had too much attached to it for me to use it again.

 

Suddenly, Thomas was beside me, his hands joining mine in the bags of groceries, removing items and placing them on the counters. “You okay?” he asked, his voice so low I almost didn’t hear it. I nodded.

 

While the food cooked, my mother asked if we’d been outside yet. Thomas was quick to answer.

 

“Yes, it was lovely.”

 

Kyra smirked like the brat she was. “I showed them.”

 

We were all sitting in the living room, while the television droned on behind us. “What did they say at the burst, baby?” My mother said, leaning forward in her chair. I had only briefly mentioned that I would be leaving my job, I hadn’t told her the circumstances.

 

“Yeah, can’t imagine your weird boss being okay with you leaving,” Kyra replied, and I rolled my eyes. “Remember when he had flowers delivered to your apartment?”

 

“Yes,” I groaned. “But I didn’t think anything of it then,” I said, burying my head in my hands.

 

“He sent you flowers?” Thomas replied, his eyebrow quirked. I noticed how he widened his stance slightly, pressing his knee against mine. I almost laughed, but I knew it was just his way. 

 

“Yeah. A few times. Usually after we’d completed a big project. Or for my birthday.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Yeah, I told her for like… two years that he was into her.”

 

“Anyway. Mom.” I said, taking back control of the conversation. “I, uh, well I called to quit. It was not… well received.” I said slowly, parsing out what I did and didn’t want to tell her. It was no use rehashing the insults he’d thrown at me, I wasn’t going to get my job back. 

 

“You’re already looking for something, aren’t you?”

 

I nodded. “Yeah. I started browsing some of the want ads in Anchorage.”

 

By the time dinner was ready, I was sure Thomas was peopled-out. He rarely responded to the conversation at large, and when we excused ourselves early, jet lag was the easy and honest scapegoat. I hadn’t lived here long when I decided to move out, but my room was exactly the same. _A little cleaner, though._

 

While Tom brushed his teeth, I sat at the little vanity and started to twist my hair. by the time he came in, I had it up in my signature pineapple, and was sitting on the bed in my pajamas, scrolling on my phone. He sat down heavily beside me, and I rolled into him, which was probably his intention. 

 

“Your family cares about you very much,” He said, plucking my phone out of my hand and laying it on the bedside table. “Your mother just threatened me in the hallway.”

 

“Oh yeah?” I asked, turning over on my belly and folding my arms under my chin. I glanced up at him, grinning. “Which one did she give you? ‘If you hurt my daughter’ or ‘I will destroy your life’?”

 

“The former. She watches a lot of true crime television.”

 

“Yeah, that’s my mom,” I sighed. Mae grunted, and whimpered from the rug at the foot of the bed—Thomas had forbidden her from jumping up. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise—she’d end up on the bed by the end of the night. Thomas tugged me closer, scooting down the bed so he could pull my back to his chest. 

 

“You never told me he sent you flowers,” he replied quietly, his breath moving against my hair. 

 

“I never thought it was important. Please tell me you’re not about to get jealous of my shitty boss who I don’t even work for anymore.” I said with a little laugh, turning in his arms to fix him with a pointed glare. 

 

“A bit.” He admitted, smirking down at me. “I can’t help it.” I threw my leg over his, and rested my chin on his chest. 

 

“Yeah, but why?” I replied, lightly running my fingers over the exposed skin of his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“I didn’t have…. the best childhood either, Gemma.” He said softly, his mouth setting itself into a hard line. I nodded—that much I could tell. Thomas didn’t normally share so voluntarily, but I had a feeling being around my own family was making him think about his. I wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.

 

“They always made sure I knew that nothing I had was mine. That it could be taken away at any moment, for any reason.” His voice was devoid of any telling emotion. I wasn’t sure what to say, or how to respond, so I stayed silent, just listening. “Everything I value, I keep close to me.”

 

_So that no one can take it away._

 

——

 

 

The next morning, the house came alive with noise, far too early for my liking. I could hear footsteps in the hallway, more than one shower going, and what sounded like the dishwasher starting up. I groaned, I’d been living alone so long, just knowing other people were in the house gave me a feeling of uncomfortable closeness. 

 

Thomas shifted beside me, grunting. Finally, I heard the sound of the cars in the driveway, and though I wasn’t sure about Kyra, I knew that at least my parents were gone. 

 

“You’re up early.” his voice was rough from sleep.

 

“The entire house got up at the same time. You must have missed the group text.” Thomas said nothing, he just sighed tiredly, and turned on his side to face me. “You want breakfast?”

 

“Not yet.” He pulled me closer, his fingers sliding underneath the hem of my pajama shorts. My body was instantly on high alert, my blood going hot. “You never struck me as the flowers type.”

 

I sighed. Why was he so hung up on that? “I’m not.” Thomas kneaded the flesh of my ass gently, almost thoughtfully. “Why are you still on this, Tom?” I asked, my voice muffled by the skin of his chest. I could practically feel him roll his eyes. His hold on me tightened, his fingers sliding under the panties I would soon regret wearing.

 

“I suppose I’m feeling rather territorial.” He said gruffly, grasping my hips and pulling me fully on top of him. I wriggled, trying to balance myself. I could feel him growing hot and heavy underneath me, the only thing separating us were the thin barriers of our clothes, which I was sure would be done away with in moments. He massaged my thighs with a firm hand, and I sighed contentedly, grinding myself against the growing hardness in his sweats. One of his large hands came up to the small of my back, pressing me down for a kiss. I couldn’t resist, sighing when his mouth met mine, his teeth worrying my lower lip. “Haven’t been in you since yesterday,” Thomas murmured, his fingertips dragging across my belly, his touch trailing heat over my skin. 

 

“Oh, that’s just forever,” I murmured, grinning down at him when he scowled at me. He bucked his hips, grinding his cock into me. I hissed, balancing myself with a hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Quite.”

 

Thomas kneaded my ass hard with one hand, using the other to tug my tank top down roughly. He muttered something quietly, trailing his hand up my thigh and pressing his fingers against the crotch of my embarrassingly damp shorts. I didn’t catch it, but my head was starting to go foggy, and I figured if it was important, it bore repeating. “You’re so fucking wet already, Gemma.” My mouth opened to tell him what an arrogant shit he was, but Thomas slid two fingers into my cunt, curling them against my pubic bone, so all that came from my lips was a strangled moan. 

 

“Asshole.”

 

“Get up and take these off.” When I hedged, he swatted my ass, and I yelped. “Now.”

 

He’d been overbearingly possessive since the night before, and though I hated to admit it, it turned me on. I _liked_ knowing Thomas cared enough about me to be jealous. I wriggled off of his lap, stretching. He watched me shimmy out of my shirt, licking his lips. Thomas sat up, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. His tattoo seemed to move and flex as he shifted, and I fought the urge to reach forward to trace it with the pad of my finger, knowing he wanted me to stay still. He hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of my shorts to tug me forward until my knees touched the edge of the bed. I could feel goosebumps growing on my arms as he watched me, his fingers warm against my skin. 

 

“So soft,” he murmured, gently pulling my shorts down my thighs. “Come here, baby girl.”

 

He pulled me forward so that I was standing between his legs, his hands resting on my ass. Thomas rested his head between my breasts, inhaling deeply.

 

“You smell different,” he muttered softly, his lips and stubble tickling my skin. 

 

I couldn’t help the derisive snort I let out. “Thomas what the fuck.” I pulled away a little, and frowned at him.

 

“You’re cute when you get irritated.”

 

“Is that why you do it all the time?” I asked, grinning. “What do you mean I smell different?”

 

“Different. Not bad.”

 

“Right. I feel so much better.”

 

“Don’t be a brat, Gemma.” Thomas gripped my ass hard, kneading it with firm hands. “I would hate to have to punish you.”

 

I found myself wondering what punishment he had in mind. Thomas ran surprisingly gentle hands up my sides to cup my breasts. He ran his thumbs over my nipples, grinning to himself as thy hardened under his ministrations. Tentatively, I reached forward to stroke the side of his face. Strangely enough, Thomas seemed to have already figured out my buttons and how to push them—I was still learning his. 

 

He closed his eyes and leaned into my hand, kissing my palm. I ran my fingers through his hair, noting that he still hadn’t gotten it trimmed. I trailed my other hand down his belly, feeling his muscles bunch and release under my touch. I hooked one finger in the waistband of his sweatpants, and tugged on them.

 

“Take these off.”

 

“Demanding, aren’t we?” he drawled, standing up to tower over me. Normally I knew how much he liked— _needed—_ control, but I also knew that he wanted reassurance. He wanted to know I belonged to him unequivocally, and I wanted to show him that. Now, Thomas was just as naked as I was, his erect cock bumping against my belly as he pulled me close. Before he could start barking orders at me, I slid to my knees, watching as his eyes widened with interest. Despite my embarrassment, I kept eye contact as I stroked his dick. He groaned softly, bucking his hips forward impatiently. I steeled myself—I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me into rushing. I placed a sloppy kiss on the head of his cock, and pulled back when he threaded his hands into my hair.

 

“Don’t tease me, Gemma.”

 

I ignored his breathy command. _You like it when I tease you._ I repeated the action all along his shaft, laving him from base to tip without ever once putting his cock in my mouth. Thomas’ hands had found my shoulders, massaging and squeezing as I worked him, soft groans falling from his lips. I pulled back to admire my handiwork. Thomas’ eyes were barely open, and he was gripping the bedpost so hard his knuckles were completely white. His cock was completely engorged and throbbing, a fat drop of pre cum welling at the tip. I licked it and he groaned, squeezing my shoulder. 

 

“You’re so fucking good at that,” he panted, hissing as I laved him again. “Put it in your mouth, love,” He said, his voice thick. I encircled his head with my lips, sucking as I worked his shaft with my hand. I looked up at him, his piercing eyes meeting mine as I leisurely sucked his cock, taking it as deep into my mouth as I could. “Daddy’s girl likes sucking cock, doesn’t she?” he breathed, stroking a thumb down my cheek. I nodded, and made a little noise at the back of my throat in the affirmative. I could feel him throbbing in my mouth, that thick vein running along the underside of his erection pressing against my tongue. I swallowed, my throat contracting around his cock and he groaned, his hips jerking.

 

“Naughty bitch, trying to get daddy to waste his cum,” he growled, tugging me to my feet. I grinned cheekily.

 

“Waste?”

 

Thomas wasted no time in positioning me against the bed, leaned over with my arms crossed behind my back and my legs splayed wide open. He caressed my ass, before running a thick finger down my dripping slit. I could feel Thomas pressing himself against me, his breath hot against my neck. “You know how much I like cumming in that tight pussy, Gemma.”

 

He rubbed the dripping head of his cock against me, forcing just the tip of himself into me. I moaned, pushing my hips back, attempting to drive him the rest of the way in. He chuckled darkly, before smacking my ass hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. I cried out, hoping like hell that the house was empty. He gripped my ass hard with one hand, holding me still. “Be good for daddy.”

 

“I’m sorry daddy,” I gasped, my cunt throbbing. 

 

“Beg. Beg for it,” he growled, pulling his cock out of my soaked and wanton pussy until the head was barely touching me. I whined, feebly trying to push back against him. 

 

“Please, daddy… I need it,” I panted, my fuzzy brain no longer registering my volume as I pleaded. I’d never expected to develop a cream pie fetish, but with Thomas, I couldn’t help it, it may very well have been inevitable. “Please fuck me daddy, I love when you cum in me,” I admitted, groaning when he pushed his cock up against my engorged clit. 

 

“Fuck, love,” He groaned, rutting against me. “You like when daddy cums in that needy pussy?” I gasped as Thomas sank into me slowly, moaning. I clenched around him, shuddering as he adjusted his weight. “Fuck, Gemma, I didn’t think you could get any tighter.”

 

“I aim to please, daddy.” I panted rolling my hips backward into his. He growled, nipping my shoulder.

 

At this angle, Thomas’ thick cock was pressed against my cervix, and he bumped it hard with each thrust. It was electrifying and dizzying, the pleasure only enhanced by the pain. I spasmed around him, my voice filling my bedroom. “Ah, fuck, baby I can _feel_ you,” he groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled my head back to lave a sloppy kiss and a hard bite on the side of my throat. He was practically on top of me, his hard thrusts driving the bed against the wall. I could hardly hear it over my own breathy cries, and the wet sound of his cock in my dripping cunt. 

 

“Mm, fuck! Daddy I’m so close,” I keened, my fingers tangling in the sheets beneath me. I could feel the tension of my orgasm building in my belly, egged on by Thomas’ disgustingly erotic vocabulary. His lips brushed against the shell of my ear as he spoke, his voice short circuiting my brain.

 

“Come for daddy, Gemma,” he hissed, his cock pressing insistently into my pussy. “I can feel you squeezing me, Baby Girl, I know you’re ready.” He tugged harshly on my hair and I hissed, tightening even further around his dick. “If you don’t come by the time I count to three, Gemma, I won’t let you.”

 

“One.” He slapped my ass hard, making me spasm against him, gasping. “Two.” The coil snapped, and a breathy wail ripped itself from my throat as I collapsed against the bed, panting his name over and over. Thomas came with a hoarse shout, gripping my hips as he jerked against me. I shuddered with renewed pleasure at feeling him shoot inside me. We laid there like that for a moment, until Thomas dragged us to our feet. He laid me back in bad gently, but didn’t cover me. He walked into my bathroom, and I could hear water running. When he returned to the bed, he was carrying a warm washcloth. 

 

“Spread your legs, love.”

 

I stared at him for a second, before doing as he asked, propping myself up on my elbows so I could watch him. He gently cleaned me off, before placing a soft kiss on the inside of my thigh. _How is this somehow more intimate than fucking?_ “You’re swollen, Gemma.”

 

“Probably because we’ve been fucking like rabbits,” I murmured, scooting over to make room for him in the bed. I reached over him to grab my phone from the bedside table, to check my notifications. My eyes widened, and I felt my face go hot as I groaned. 

 

“What?”

 

I said nothing, only shoved my phone into his face so he could see the text from my sister. Thomas, of course, found it incredibly amusing, and groaned as I buried my head against his chest, his laughter rumbling in my ears.

 

_You guys are way too fucking loud._

 

 

_— —_

 

“We have to go down sometime.”

 

“You go, then!” I hissed, my chest tightening with embarrassment. Kyra was my sister, I told her everything. But what I’d never intended was to give her an NC-17-rated show, complete with mental imagery I was sure she wouldn’t be able to forget.

 

Thomas and I had showered—with me narrowly avoiding more of his lustful advances, and now, he was attempting to convince me to leave my room. Knowing that my little sister had heard me being thoroughly fucked was more than a little embarrassing. 

 

“Fine.” Thomas tugged open the door, and stepped out into the carpeted hallway. I could hear him descending the stairs, and I groaned again, cursing. I fidgeted on the bed for a few minutes, before I steeled my resolve to follow him. Thomas never cared what anyone thought, that was just one of the ways in which we were so fundamentally different. It wasn’t in his nature to second guess himself. 

 

“ _Fine.”_ I imitated him irritatedly, peeking out into the hallway. The house was silent, so maybe Kyra had left for class already?

 

I padded down the steps, and peered into the hall: empty. I sighed with relief, before making my way to the kitchen. Thomas was at the island, making himself a cup of coffee. I bit back a smile, noting he’d taken down another cup as well. Mae came barreling down the hallway, her paws scrabbling on the kitchen tile as she raced over to the table, panting. I scratched her snout, making cooing noises.

 

“Gemma she’s a dog.” Thomas replied, rolling his eyes. I scowled at him. 

 

“And my baby! Who’s a good girl? Who’s momma’s girl? Show me belly!” Mae rolled over onto her back, baring her pudgy tummy. _I knew mom was feeding her too much._ “Wanna go outside?” I said, watching as her ears perked up and her tail wagged excitedly. “Mae? Door.” I instructed, watching as my dog raced out of the kitchen.

 

“I’m going to go walk her, Thomas. You don’t have to come if you don’t want,” I said, draining my coffee cup. Thomas stretched lazily, nodding.

 

“I do have a few calls to make. Emails to send. I’ll see you when you get back.”

 

When I arrived at the front door, Mae was still waiting patiently, her leash wet and slobbery and held tightly in her mouth. I clipped it onto her collar, and opened the door. It was autumn, and still pretty warm. Warm enough for me not to need a jacket or close toed shoes.

 

I hadn’t done much exploring of this neighborhood after my mother had moved—I’d never lived here long term, and the white picket fenced cul-de-sac didn’t have much to offer in terms of entertainment. Many of the houses looked the same, though I wondered how many of them were actually occupied. Mae, of course, was just happy to be outside, dragging me from patch of grass to the next. We’d gone around the block twice before she was finally ready to go back home, dragging me up the pathway to my mother’s house. 

 

When I walked back to the kitchen, Thomas was gone, both of our cups washed and set in the drying rack. I opened the back door, and Mae shot past me, racing into the yard and collapsing in a patch of sun. “Thomas?”

 

“Here.” He was sitting in one of the lawn chairs, tapping something out on his phone, an expertly rolled spliff in one hand. I was torn between the desire to laugh, and the desire to scowl at him. I settled somewhere in the middle, and made my way over to him, settling myself between his legs before leaning back. 

 

“You know if my mother sees you I’ll never hear the end of it.”

 

“Then it’s a very good thing she isn’t home,” He replied nonchalantly. 

 

“Where did you manage to find weed in the twenty minutes I was gone?”

 

“Kyra gave it to me before she left.”

 

“What?” I sat up, and turned, looking at him in surprise. 

 

“She wasn’t gone, just in her room. She said to tell you quiet down.” An evil smirk played at the edges of Thomas’ handsome mouth, and I slapped a hand to my forehead, pressing the heel of my palm into the bridge of my nose. 

 

“Is she still home?”

 

“No, she left for class.”

 

I sighed with relief. “At least I didn’t have to see her.” 

 

We sat outside for a while, passing the joint between us until it was nothing but smoldering ash that Tom flicked away into the grass. 

 

“I was thinking we should go into the city tomorrow. Start to pack up and everything.” It was strange, now that we were doing it, this felt incredibly final. 

 

“What borough are you in?” he asked, his accent making the word sound foreign to my New Yorker ears. I giggled, which was met with a signature Thomas frown. 

 

“Brooklyn, I’m in Bed-Stuy. I worked in Manhattan, though. Oh shit,” I cursed, dismay writing it’s way across my features. “I’m going to have to go clean out my desk. At work. Where my shit-ass boss is.”

 

“Ex-boss.” Thomas corrected, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on my sides. “I’ll go with you.”

 

“Thanks,” I replied gratefully, thankful that I hadn’t even had to ask. “You’ll hate him.”

 

“Gemma,” he replied, chuckling. “I already do.”

 

 

——

 

 

“Let’s take a break,” I whined, wiping sweat and dust off of my forehead. Once we’d arrived at my apartment, and Thomas had made his obligatory remarks about how small it was, we’d begun the arduous task of packing my life away. We were sitting in the living room, at the epicenter of what looked like a small tornado. Books and a various assortment of household items were scattered around us, and he’d just unearthed Kyra’s bowl, which she’d left at my house many moons before. 

 

“Fine. I’ll pack this.” I watched him break apart the weed with deft fingers, filling the bowl before lighting it. “For a single woman, you sure had a lot of shit,” he remarked, handing it off to me. I snorted in indignation.

 

“Big talk for a man driving a midlife crisis car,” I retorted. Thomas grabbed at me, pulling me into his lap. “I didn’t know I was single now! Guess I’ll call up Chris, tell him the good news,” I joked, watching Thomas’ lip curl. 

 

“I didn’t know your type was big and stupid.”

 

“You didn’t? That’s like half the reason I’m dating you.”

 

Thomas tossed the bowl onto the couch and growled, digging his fingers into my sides. I shrieked with laughter, struggling, my foot knocking over a pile of books I’d decided to donate. “Stop! Stop,” I pleaded, tears leaking out of my eyes. When he finally relented, I laid there gasping. 

 

“That’s pretty low of you, exploiting my one weakness,” I said, straightening myself up to lean against the couch. Thomas snorted, repacking the bowl.

 

“I’m going to ignore that blatant lie,” he intoned, handing it to me to start. I couldn’t help but grin.

 

“Whatever. Put these in the donate pile,” I commanded, watching him stand up awkwardly, and retreat into the kitchen with the things I’d shoved at him. Almost two months ago, I’d thought I wouldn’t even piss on this man if he were on fire, but he’d wormed his way into my life and surprisingly, I was happy with him there. 

 

_Good thing I love him. Stupid asshole._

 

I felt my heart start to beat faster. I loved him. I loved Thomas Harrison. 

 

“The box is full. Which I suppose is a good thing considering how much useless junk you managed to make space for—Gemma?” I hadn’t realized I was staring off into space until he said my name, snapping me back into reality. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“No more for you,” he joked, plucking the bowl out of my hands with deft fingers. “I said I think we should stop for today. It’s starting to get late,” he intoned, nodding towards the clock in the living room. It was after five, and we’d already worked through the kitchen, and were now working on the living room. Another two, three days at max, and we would be done. Most of my stuff that wasn’t in too bad of a way was going to Goodwill. Everything else was going either into the dumpster behind my building, or with me in my little Kia hatchback. 

 

“Maybe we should go pick up your things this evening?” he suggested, and I frowned, shaking my head. Thomas had been after me for the past two days to go to my office and get my shit, but every time I said no. I wasn’t ready to see my boss. Fuck, I wasn’t ready to go in there and deal with the comments, the stares, the whispers. I didn’t want to deal with any of it. I wondered idly if it was possible to go after the building had closed. Surely the janitor would let me in, right?

 

“Maybe tomorrow,” I said stiffly. 

 

“Gemma you can’t avoid it forever.” His voice was softer than usual.

 

“I’m not avoiding it!” I replied defensively, despite knowing that I was doing exactly that. “I just want to finish with this first.”

 

“You don’t have to be afraid, Gem. I’m going with you.” 

 

I sighed. “I know.”

 

“Let’s go.”

 

I took Tom’s hand, and allowed him to lead me out of the apartment, dread settling in the pit of my belly like lead. 

 

_At least I’m not alone._

 

 

 

 

_To be continued..._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gemma used the "L" word! And now they're going to her job to get her shit and confront her...decidedly shady boss. :O


	9. Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I had pretty major writer's block here, so I'm sorry if this chapter is a little short. I'm also working on an AU Thomas and Gemma series, so I've been spending a lot of creative energy on that, haha. Enjoy!

“How did you get that job in the first place?”

 

 

“I interned. I’d just graduated from school, underneath mountains of crushing debt, and couldn’t find a job,” I said honestly. “I saw an ad for an intern position with a small stipend, and immediately applied. There were like, six of us, I think?” 

 

We were on the train, on our way into Manhattan. Thomas looked just as out of place here as he did in my apartment; combed back curls, and an immaculate button up tucked into jeans more expensive than my rent. I was still feeling anxious about our pending trip to the office, which Thomas could plainly see. I could remember that day Renner had informed me he liked my writing so much that he wanted me to stay at the Sunburst past my internship. I frowned at the thought. _Guess it wasn’t so much my writing as the fact he thought he could pork me._

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Thomas drawled, and I rolled my eyes. 

 

“Oh yeah?” I said sarcastically. “What’s that?”

 

“That you only got the job because he wanted to fuck you.”

 

“Actually I thought it was so he could _pork_ me, but that was pretty close.” I saw his mouth quirk up in a smile.

 

“It isn’t true.”

 

“How would you know?” I retorted miserably, slumping in my seat. 

 

“I’ve read your articles, Gemma.” I snapped to attention. I knew the Burst had a huge following, but I’d sort of assumed Thomas didn’t read it. I thought he read one of the other big publications, probably the Times. We were—not “we” anymore, since I’d technically been fired—known for our brilliant op-ed pieces, and unbiased coverage of current events, but it wasn’t a popular paper outside of the east coast. I must have looked utterly shocked, because he laughed. “Close your mouth, Gemma. You look like a fish.”

 

“You’ve read my articles?”

 

“I believe I already said that.” 

 

“What? When?” I sputtered, gaping at him. 

 

“After you told me you worked there,” he admitted. “You’re talented, Gemma. He may have wanted to…pork you, but you’re a good writer.” 

 

I squeezed his hand, and gave him a small smile. “Thanks.” He nodded, shrugging. “Would you have lied to make me feel better if I wasn’t?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Asshole.”

 

The train dinged as it slowed, and I looked up. “Oh. This is us.” We exited, pushed forward to the exit by the never ending flow of people. Once we were outside, I pointed towards my office building, just up the block. “There it is.”

 

**Sunburst News** was printed on a huge plaque in our signature font, and though it was after six, I knew almost everyone—including Mr. Renner—would still be there, hard at work. I hesitated in front of the rotating door, before Thomas placed a comforting hand on the small of my back.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

I breathed deep, and entered. The security guard, Gerry, looked surprised to see me. 

 

“Hey Ger.”

 

“Gemma! Long time no-see. How was vacation?” He was an older man, with a giant mustache that obscured his mouth and a rather racy sense of humor. I liked him. 

 

“Pretty good, but unfortunately it’s going to be permanent. I quit two weeks ago.”

 

“You brought back a souvenir, I see,” he grinned, jerking his head towards Thomas. “Never seen this one before. Gonna have to sign him in.”

 

“This is Thomas,” I said belatedly, realizing I hadn’t introduced him.

 

“Her boyfriend,” he intoned, signing his name in the guestbook in elegantly flowing script. I rolled my eyes. 

 

“Her pain in the ass,” I replied, nodding at Gerry. “I’ll be back through in about twenty. Gotta clean out my desk.”

 

“You’re a smart girl,” he called after me as we headed towards the elevator. “You’ll find something good!”

 

I waved at him as the doors closed, and then gently elbowed Thomas in the stomach. “He’s like a million.”

 

“He’s got eyes, doesn’t he?”

 

I sighed and closed my eyes. _Sign in with reception. Shove your shit into the box you brought, and go. In and out. No goodbyes._

 

The elevator dinged, depositing us on one of the six floors designated to the Sunburst staff. I was at the top, with the rest of the editors and major writers. The receptionist, Shiela, was at her desk in front. She did a double take when she saw me, her eyes wide. I could practically see the newsreel of gossip she was constructing in her mind as we approached, and I made a mental note not to say anything to her that I didn’t want the entirety of New York knowing about. Her beady eyes then moved to Thomas, traveling up and down his prone form. I couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy, but it was overwhelmed by smugness as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. 

 

“Hi, Shiela.” 

 

“Gemma! Ohmygod! I thought—everyone said—”

 

“I’m just here to clean out my desk. Hence the jeans,” I said, motioning to myself. She leaned forward conspiratorially. 

 

“Is it true?”

 

“It’s true, I quit.” 

 

“Carolyn said… she said you got fired.” Sheila looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to confirm or deny the rumor, so that she could then pass an embellished version onto the rest of the office. 

 

_I knew it. I knew that slimy asshole wouldn’t tell anyone the truth._ I felt the anger bubbling up inside of me, and I clenched my fists. I opened my mouth to tell Shiela what a piece of shit our boss was, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the comforting weight of Tom’s hand at the small of my back, reminding me it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Renner had lied to everyone to save face, and it didn’t matter that his personal secretary and blowjob machine Carolyn had helped spread those lies. 

 

“I didn’t. Please don’t tell anyone I’m here, I just want to get my things and go,” I said, smiling tightly at her. I knew it was a moot point, Shiela would have told everyone on our floor by the time I was in my office. She nodded.

 

Thomas and I headed down the hallway, heading past the boardroom toward the offices. Renner’s door was closed, luckily, so we didn’t have to bother attempting to sneak by. I dug my keys out of my pocket, and unlocked my office door. I hadn’t been there in so long it almost seemed foreign. It was darker than I remembered, smaller too. He closed the door behind us, and looked around with a distasteful glance. 

 

“You deserve a bigger office.”

 

“Bigger doesn’t necessarily mean better,” I retorted, setting the empty box on the desk as I began to thumb through one of my cabinets. I could hear him scoff behind me and I immediately felt my cheeks grow warm.

 

“I’ve _never_ heard you complain about bigger.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Thomas wasn’t one for boundaries. What was his was mine, and as such, what was mine—meager as it was, though he never seemed to complain unless it inconvenienced him—was his. He wandered around my office, opening my drawers, and handing me things that looked important. Thomas sighed long-sufferingly as he helped me, but otherwise didn’t complain. I began to work on the desk, pulling things off of the surface that I wanted to keep.

 

“What are those?” Tom asked, pulling one of my many post-its off of my computer monitor. It was kind of like my idea board, just little current events, or things I found interesting. It had spawned some of my best articles, it was a shame I wouldn’t get to use them now.

 

“Ideas. You know, article ideas. Those were all the good ones I thought of before I left.” I hesitated for a moment, and then tore them off, crumpling them up and tossing them into the trash. “At least I didn’t give _those_ away for free.” I mumbled, grabbing the photos off of my desk, along with my stress ball, and various knick-knacks I’d accumulated over the past couple of years, tossing them into the box too. We were just about finished, when a knock came at the door. I assumed it was Sheila, coming to tell me some useless bit of gossip, but to my horror, it was Jeremy. He entered without asking, and so I angrily assumed the knock was simply to announce his presence. 

 

He had this way of dominating spaces, making himself seem imposing without saying a word. He leaned against the door frame, his gaze resting on me heavily. I felt Thomas’ tension as though it were my own as he rose to his full height, towering over both of us. Jeremy didn’t seem cowed in the least, fixing me with an easy smile as he continued to ignore Tom as though he weren’t even present—something I knew would rankle him. 

 

“I thought you would at least call to let us know you were clearing out your office,” he said smoothly, and I swallowed my angry retort. _And by us you mean you._ “It’s a real pity you won’t… reconsider.” He licked his lips and I swallowed thickly, bile rising in my throat. There was no way in hell I ever would have slept with him even if Thomas _hadn’t_ firmly inserted himself into my life. “We were going places. As a team,” he amended, though the smug lilt in his voice suggested otherwise. I felt Thomas edge forward, his hip pressed against my side.

 

“Time for a change,” I said, hoping my voice sounded as nonchalant as I tried to make it seem. Jeremy feigned surprise, finally acknowledging Thomas, who had moved away from me to step around the desk and lean against it, placing himself between myself and my ex-boss. I hurriedly moved to stand beside him—the last thing I wanted was a repeat of what had happened with Aiden. Maybe if I was in the way, Thomas wouldn’t go into attack mode. I’d just gotten a boyfriend, I didn’t want to loose him to prison.

 

“Sorry. Just catching up, you know how it is,” he said, his voice tinged with a familiarity that didn’t belong as he reached out to shake Tom’s hand. “Jeremy Renner.” The introduction was unnecessary, but it didn’t matter, it was for show. I knew what this was—as a kid, I’d seen two stray dogs fighting in an alley. They circled each other, snapping and biting, just before they launched at one another. This was the same, only instead of fur and claws, it was barbed insults wrapped in pretty words. 

 

“Thomas,” he replied cooly, refusing to reciprocate. They stared one another down, and something like recognition sparked in Renner’s eyes, as he narrowed them. Did _they_ know each other too? It seemed like the kind of thing Thomas would have mentioned by now—though it had an equal chance of being information he figured I didn’t need to know. I would ask later, after he’d cooled down. 

 

“Didn’t catch your last name,” he replied, flicking imaginary dust off of the sleeve of his shirt. 

 

“It was never mentioned,” Tom said smoothly, crossing his arms languidly. “Harrison.”

 

My personal items were all safely in my box, so I wedged my way in between them again, attempting to disarm the conflict. “I have all my things. Thank you, Mr. Renner.” I said, hoping the air of finality in my voice would make him leave. Thomas was gripping my hand tightly, though whatever emotion he was feeling didn’t show on his face. 

 

Jeremy grinned as though he knew something I didn’t, and inclined his head. “Should you change your mind, Gemma, I’m only a phone call away.” Before I could register it, he’d leaned over and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek, and was making confidently for the door. Things slowed down then, and I felt Thomas’ hands on my waist, pulling me aside. I watched in abject horror as he grabbed the other man by his collar, shoving him into the doorframe. Renner’s cool smirk never faltered, although his eyes looked a little less confident than before. Thomas’ own were dark, and his voice was low as he pressed forward, his fingers tangled in Jeremy’s dress shirt. 

 

“Touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you,” he replied, his voice an icy calm that was in direct opposition to his white knuckled grip on Jeremy. “Don’t even fucking look at her.” 

 

I finally found my voice, though it came out in a horrified whisper.

 

“Tom…”

 

He didn’t even glance at me, his posture tight. _He really means it,_ I thought, as the realization hit me. _He really fucking means it._

 

“Thomas.” I finally seemed to catch his attention, and he glanced at me over his shoulder. “Lets go.” I was afraid to get close to them, for fear he’d loose his temper. I wasn’t afraid he’d hurt me—I was afraid I’d have to act as a witness in the murder of one Jeremy Renner. For a minute, it seemed as though he were actually contemplating the consequences of beating him bloody. “He’s not worth it.” He turned back to Jeremy, who was grinning like a cheshire cat, before loosing his fingers from the other man’s clothes. 

 

“Get your box and go wait by the elevator, Gemma.” I grabbed my stuff, but didn’t leave. 

 

“Tom—”

 

“I’m coming. Go.”

 

I backed out of the office slowly, edging around them and walking quickly toward the elevator. I pressed it hurriedly, wondering if security was coming. I waited with baited breath for the sounds of a fight, but none came. People walked by me as though nothing happened, and when Thomas finally met me by the elevator, his face was a complete mask. 

 

I didn’t bother asking him what had happened in my absence, I knew he wouldn’t tell me until we were out of the building entirely, possibly even until we got home to Jersey. He didn’t say a word to me the whole ride down to the ground floor, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. 

 

Once we were out on the sidewalk, he turned to me, surprising me enough to make me almost drop my box.

 

“Don’t ever go back there without me.”

 

“W-what? I—”

 

“Do not. Go into that building. Without me, Gemma.” He said again, his words slow and measured. I could tell he was doing his best to stay calm, and that whatever had transpired in the few minutes I’d been gone was enough to disturb and anger him even more than Renner touching me.

 

“Okay.”

 

——

 

Thomas hadn’t wanted to bother taking the train to the PATH, so he’d simply called an uber. One of the fancy cars, with a clear plastic divider between the driver and passengers. “What happened, Thomas?” I asked, unable to contain the question any longer.

 

He ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. “That man is a fucking predator, Gemma.”

 

I rolled my eyes, sighing. “Tell me something I don’t know. Namely what the hell _happened._ ”

 

Thomas turned to me, shifting so that he was facing me instead of staring aimlessly out the window at the rapidly darkening skyline. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, his expression unreadable. I could tell he didn’t want to tell me, which only made me want to know more. “Gemma…”

 

“Just tell me. It can’t be any worse than what I already know, right?”

 

“He asked… how you were. How often we fucked, and then told me to give you back when I was done.”

 

It was a good thing Thomas had made me leave when he did, otherwise we’d _both_ be going to jail. I clenched my fists, counting backwards from ten. _At least I never have to go back there again, right?_ It was a small comfort—the guy had been running my life for years, but at least he was out of it now, and I never had to worry about him fucking with me ever again. I got a little niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me I was wrong, but I swallowed it. I felt Thomas’ hand on my knee, squeezing it comfortingly. I wasn’t sure how my life had become so complicated; two months ago I had a full time—if all encompassing—job, and a complete lack of a social life. Now it felt like the two had been completely reversed. 

 

The driver turned onto the New Jersey Turnpike, and I watched the cityscape go by with muted interest. Our encounter had put a major damper on my mood. I wished I’d defied Thomas when he’d told me to get out, wished I’d seen what I knew he was trying to avoid showing me. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Thomas hadn’t come from the happiest home, or that he wasn’t above bending—or probably breaking—the law to get what he wanted. Those things probably came with some pretty unsavory baggage, that he didn’t want me knowing about. 

 

The car pulled off of the turnpike in Jersey, turning onto one of the state’s local highways that led to my mom’s neck of the woods. I felt some of the tension ease off, we were back on home turf now. But instead of taking a left, the driver went right, heading towards Newark. 

 

“Wait, you made a wrong turn—”

 

“No, we’re going out to dinner.” Thomas replied without looking at me, typing something on his phone. I smiled in spite of myself. He wasn’t the type to ask me if I wanted to go out—he was the type to t _ake_ me out. 

 

“I look like shit.”

 

“You do have some dust in your hair.” He said, amusement coloring his voice as his looked at me cooly, his face glowing in the backlight of his screen. I frowned, brushing at my hair absently. 

 

“And you waited until now to tell me? Dick.”

 

“Not here, Gemma,” he replied, his tone comically aghast at the suggestion I _hadn’t_ made. “The privacy screen is see through for heaven’s sake.”

 

“Asshole.”

 

“I thought you told me no?”

 

“Tom!”

 

As I fretted about my hair, we pulled up to the restaurant, a little sushi place I frequented whenever I was in the neighborhood. _Or whenever Horace is coming home early enough from work that I can get the lunch special._ “How did you know about this place?”

 

“Kyra told me.”

 

I grinned in spite of myself. My sister and my boyfriend were beginning to become quite the team. It looked as though the restaurant was beginning to get crowded, though Thomas’ dashing smile and confident pushiness quickly got us a table. 

 

“Don’t you ever feel bad?” I asked, sipping my water as we browsed the menu. He raised an eyebrow in question. 

 

“About what?”

 

“You know, like, how you bend the rules.” 

 

Thomas paused as he turned the page in the menu, as a thought flitted across hi s face. He shook his head, before smiling in that way that I’d only just figured out was for me. 

“Any rule that can be broken so easily probably wasn’t much of one.” As he said this, he slid his foot up my calf. I shuddered involuntarily, pouting when he grinned triumphantly at me. We were seated at a booth, with a long table cloth that came almost to the floor. I closed my menu, signaling to the waitress that I had selected what I wanted. Thomas did the same, before sliding closer to me, so that we were both facing outward, towards the rest of the restaurant. “Ready to order?” he replied, now so close that I could feel his thigh pressing against mine. His large hand came up to rest at the small of my back. My legs fell open instinctively as I nodded, before I realized what he was doing. “Tell me what you want.”

 

He _knew_ what tones of voice I responded to, and how I responded to them, and now he was purposefully using them to elicit a sexual response. I sat up, and fixed him with a glare. 

 

“Yes, I’m ready to order. _Thomas._ ”

 

He grinned and leaned closer to me, his fingers skimming over mine as he gestured towards the menu in front of me. “Tell me, Gemma. What do you want?”

 

The hand he’d rested on my back skimmed around to my front, his long fingers playing at the waistband of my shorts, fiddling with the button and then the zipper.

 

_He wouldn’t dare. Not here._

 

“Hi, good evening. Sorry about the wait, guys. What can I get for you?”

 

“I think we’ll start with the tuna tartare, then she’ll have the eel.”

 

I was shocked that he’d guessed correctly what I wanted, but my real pearl-clutching horror was reserved for the fact that even as he spoke calmly and clearly to the server, his deliciously dextrous fingers slid down my pants and came to rest just outside the crotch of my panties. 

 

“I’ll have the salmon, thank you.”

 

His tone became dismissive, and the waitress read it correctly, nodding and walking off, leaving Tom and I in the bubble we’d created for ourselves. His hand cupped my pussy, one of his fingers stroking me through the rapidly dampening cloth. 

 

“Thomas, I don’t…”

 

“No one can see.” He replied nonchalantly, as though even if they could, he didn’t particularly care. “And no one will know.” I knew that I required a little more convincing, and he seemed to realize that too, his sinful fingers finding my swollen clit, and rubbing it through my rapidly dampening panties. 

 

“Open for Daddy,” he murmured, his lips barely touching the shell of my ear. My legs parted automatically, allowing him access before I’d even really thought about whether I wanted to be doing this or not. What would he do if we got caught? That thought, however, was wiped from my brain as he skillfully peeled my panties aside to stroke the soft, wet folds beneath. I moaned low in my throat before covering my mouth, my cheeks burning. “Naughty girl,” Tom said softly, his hypnotic voice drowning out every other sound. As far as I was concerned, there was no one else there. No waitresses running food, or people walking by. It was just the two of us, and his fingers were doing sinful— _divine—_ things to me. He slid two digits into my throbbing cunt, curling them against my pubic bone in that way that made my toes curl. I jerked against him, my breath catching.

 

“Careful, little girl. You don’t want anyone to see us, do you?” Thomas said lowly, his voice dripping with heat. “That woman over there just looked at you. I think she wonders what we’re talking about.” I opened my eyes—I didn’t even remember closing them—and glanced in the direction he’d indicated. A woman glanced at me, before returning to her previous conversation. I tried to close my thighs in embarrassment, but Thomas’ sure hand between my legs stopped me from doing so. He’d never once paused in his ministrations, his fingers artfully bringing me closer and closer to an orgasm I hadn’t desperately wanted ten minutes ago.

 

“Will you be able to cum quietly, baby? Or does Daddy need to take you outside?” He asked in a low voice, his tone indicating that he wanted an answer. He, of course, already knew the answer—I wasn’t a quiet person, and that had never changed. He just wanted to hear me say it. 

 

“Out—outside,” I panted, doing my best to keep my voice level. Thomas wouldn’t even give me the courtesy of a break, pinching and rolling my clit between his fingers as he flagged down the waitress. 

 

“We’re going for a cigarette. Back in ten.”

 

She nodded cheerfully, before glancing at my flushed and dazed expression with a touch of confusion before she departed the table. 

 

“Come on, baby girl. Let Daddy make you feel all better.”

 

I stood on shaky legs, leaning on him for support as he guided me out. I wasn’t sure where he was expecting us to finish this, but I was so ready I probably would have let him fuck me in the street. He glanced around, before leading me down the tiny alleyway beside the restaurant, When we were far enough from the street, he turned to me, before kissing me roughly. “Put your hands on the wall.”

 

The brick felt smooth beneath my palms as I turned to do as he’d asked, facing away from him. Thomas wasted no time gripping my hips, kneading my ass with rough hands. “Your ass looks amazing in these shorts.”

 

“That’s why I bought them,” I replied airily, and Thomas snorted, before pressing his fingers against the insides of my thighs. 

 

“Pull them down so Daddy can see.” I obeyed him instantly, inching my shorts down my thighs until the soaked crotch of my panties was exposed.“Good girl.” I fully expected Tom to pull himself out of his jeans, and fuck me against the wall until I had trouble sitting. 

 

Instead, to my surprise, he leaned forward, and latched his hot mouth onto my cunt, his tongue working against the soaked fabric. I cried out, before silencing myself. Thomas pulled the fabric to the side, before forcing his tongue into my pussy, sliding it through my soft folds. I heard him groan, before licking me from my cunt to my ass, all while his skilled fingers worked against my engorged clit, pulling and plucking at it until I writhed, my legs shaking. 

 

“Thomas!”

 

I careened over the edge with abandon, sobbing as quietly as I could in the aftermath of my release. Thomas leaned against me, his body shielding mine until the aftershocks of my orgasm had worn off. I could feel the bulge of his cock pressed up against me, though he made no move to relieve himself.He lovingly helped me straighten my clothes and my hair, before walking me back inside as though nothing had happened. 

 

“Oh good,” he replied, settling down at the table. “Food’s here.”

 

 

 

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So?? Seems like we haven't seen the last of Mr. Renner. And kind of like he knows something about Tom that Gemma doesn't...


	10. Well this is unfortunate.

The situation has been handled, everything is squashed, and though I can only speak for myself, I can say I'm ready to put it to bed. Thank you to everyone who supported me, but I ask that we refrain from leaving anymore comments on Caffiend's work--these situations get heated, and I don't want it getting any more play that it's already gotten. Now that that's handled we can focus on what's really important: 

Writing dirty mcnasty smut. 

Peace.


	11. Home again, Home again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks. I'm truly sorry about how long it's been for an update--I was pretty torn up about everything, and I was having a lot of trouble writing. But, my muse came back, so we're back on track now! I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit shorter than what you're used to from me, but I promise the following chapters will be back up to their normal length. Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you sure you want to leave today? You know you’re welcome to stay for as long as you want—” my mother’s voice was thick with worry, and I could tell she was thinking about me being stuck on the highway again. But Thomas was with me, and even if my old hatchback shit the bed—which I doubted it would do—I knew I’d be safe. 

 

“Mom, we’ll be fine. Thanks for having us,” I replied, hefting one of the many bags I was trying in vain to drag to the car without Thomas’ help. He and Kyra had both gone missing about ten minutes before, which hinted to me that I’d probably be driving the first leg of our trip. With rest stops, it would be about three days until we got back to Alaska. I hated long car trips, but Mae seemed excited, barking at us from the car as we said our goodbyes. Thomas had bought her a travel crate—that she refused to sit in. Her head was sticking out the back window as she panted excitedly, drool dripping from her open mouth.

 

My mother was standing on the doorstep in her robe. It was still another hour before she left for work, and she was doing everything she could to convince both of us to stay, short of a bribe.

 

“Gem you can always come home okay?” She replied, stroking my cheek. I smiled at her, and hugged her tightly, before moving onto Horace. 

 

“He’s a nice young man, Gemma.” He replied approvingly. “He’s welcome back any time.”

 

My wayward sister and boyfriend made a reappearance, with Kyra giving me a tearful, overdramatic hug as she slipped something—likely weed—into my pocket. “I’ll miss you, you old bitch,” she said, sniffling. I rolled my eyes. 

 

“I’ve only got seven years on you. Watch it. You’ll be thirty before you know it.”

 

“Never.” Kyra seemed scandalized by the very thought. 

 

My little hatchback honda was as reliable as Thomas was an asshole—it had never failed me. I trusted it infinitely more than the rental we’d returned a week and a half before, I was glad to be bringing it with me to Alaska. We got in and started it, letting the engine run for a few minutes. “Roll up that window on Mae’s side a little,” Thomas instructed. I obeyed, rolling my eyes.

 

“I’ve driven with her in the car before, Tom. Specifically when I dropped her off here?” I snapped irritatedly, though he seemed completely nonplussed at my moodiness. He shrugged, settling in for the first leg. I attributed his good mood to the weed Kyra had probably given him for the journey.Our route would take us through Canada, though Thomas would be driving most of that. Thomas had printed out the directions the night before, though I had Google Maps on my phone. I suspected he liked having them in hand—likely so that we wouldn’t ever have to stop and ask for directions. 

 

After waving goodbye to my family one final time, I put the car into gear, and pulled out of the driveway. Soon, we were on the highway, on our way out of Jersey. Thomas had specifically requested that I regulate my loudest and most obscene music to the afternoon and evening, and although I was feeling irritatedly spiteful that he hadn’t included me in he and Kyra’s little goodbye smoke session, I respected the request. A few hours in, and we’d left the territory I’d known completely behind. 

 

“Do you need me to drive?”

 

“It’s only been like three hours, Thomas. I’m fine.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Why was I jealous? It wasn’t like I suspected them of even _doing_ anything—besides hanging out. It was irrational, I knew. I shifted in the seat, trying to ease a twinge in my back. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just saying I’m fine. I don’t need you to drive.” It was like I could _hear_ myself being bitchy, but I had no way to control it. 

 

“Here.” I heard the sound of his lighter flicking, and immediately smelled burning paper. 

 

“No cigarettes in my car! You know I hate that.” I replied, hating the whiny edge to my voice. 

 

“It’s a fucking joint, Gemma. Take it, before your PMS gets us killed on this highway.”

 

“Fuck you, Tom.” I muttered through gritted teeth. He shrugged, exhaling smoke as Mae grunted in the back seat. Suddenly, my phone dinged. It had been my bright idea to set timers to remind us to stop and rest every few hours, and the first one had just gone off. We’d just passed a sign a few miles back, noting a rest stop. I pulled off the highway at the next opportunity, and Thomas put out the spliff, before resting it casually in my glove compartment. “Can you walk Mae? I’m running to the bathroom.”

 

Thomas sighed long sufferingly, but I caught the little smile he flashed at her as he released her from the back seat after clipping her leash on, so I ignored the slight. Finding my way to the bathroom was easy enough, but when I sat down, I cursed. Blood had stained the crotch of my panties, and suddenly, my irritation, temper, and sore back made sense. _How the fuck did he know?_

 

When I marched back out of the rest stop with a box of tampons, Thomas graciously said nothing—a feat I imagined had been incredibly hard for him to accomplish. 

 

“Need me to drive?” he asked again, though this time, he seemed unable to hide the smug grin on his lips as he offered me the joint again, his eyebrow raised cockily. I snatched it from him, before skulking around to the other side of the car. 

 

“Fine.”

 

——

 

 

As night approached, we’d begun scoping out hotels to stop at. I’d napped through most of his drive, my seat leaned all the way back, curled up on my side. And even though I’d snapped at him, he’d still driven with a warm hand on the small of my back. It was dark now, early evening. 

 

“Here, look, there’s a Best Western here, let’s just stop—

”

“There’s a Park Hyatt in another forty-five minutes.”

 

“You think they’re going to let Mae into the Park Hyatt?” I asked incredulously, gesturing at my pitt bull in the back seat, whose head was resting on the middle arm console as she looked between us boredly. “Thomas it doesn’t even matter, we’re just spending the night there, not raising five kids in the lobby.” He frowned at me, indicating that this would be the hill he died on this evening. I shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, attempting to ease the deep ache that had grown in my back. I was thoroughly exhausted, despite having done less than my share of driving for the day. Thomas ran a hand through his hair tiredly, sighing. 

 

Although it had been days since the encounter with Renner at my office, Thomas had seemed like he was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was even more curious than ever to know what words had been exchanged between them—but I also knew Thomas wouldn’t tell me. _Stubborn prick._

 

When we finally arrived at the hotel of his choice, Thomas told me to wait in the car with Mae, while he went to sort out our lodging.

 

“They’re never going to let us bring her in.”

 

“She’s your service animal, isn’t she?” He asked nonchalantly, straightening his shirt. My eyes must have lingered, because when I looked up at him, he was grinning smugly. It was one thing to be good looking, and another matter entirely to know it, and Thomas knew it. “I’ll be back shortly.” He turned on his heel and was gone, into the foyer of a hotel I would have driven right past if I’d been alone in the car. After a few minutes, I felt my phone buzz. 

 

_Come inside. Bring Mae with you._

 

“I guess we’re staying,” I replied softly, and Mae woofed gently in response. “Let’s go.”

 

I entered through the revolving door, heading towards the concierge where Thomas was standing, casually leaned against the counter, his credit card held loosely in his hand. He’d bankrolled this whole trip, and here I was, hassling him about what hotel he wanted to stay at. I waited patiently behind him as he spoke, observing. His tone was cool and aloof, and the entire air surrounding him spoke of entitlement—and the power enforce it. 

 

As the man behind the counter handed Thomas a key and thanked him for his patronage, I spied a _“No Pets”_ sign behind him written in elegant cursive. He probably hadn’t even had to push very hard to get the poor man to agree to let Mae in here. _Any rule that can be broken so easily probably wasn’t much of one._ He turned then, his eyes brightening as he recognized me. It was a beautiful moment—which my hormone addled brain quickly helped me ruin. 

 

“I got your text,” I said stupidly, wishing I could pull the words back into my mouth as they left it. He laughed, before jerking his head in the direction of the elevator. We headed towards it, with Mae padding along beside us. “It’s nice here,” I replied agreeably, in lieu of an apology. Thomas seemed to understand, and nodded at me, his warm hand coming up to the small of my back possessively. “You didn’t have to pay for the whole room, I would have paid for half of it,” I continued, stepping into the elevator when it arrived. Thomas rolled his eyes, and punched the button to close the doors. 

 

“Gemma, you’re not working.”

 

“So? I still have money—”

 

“Would you just let me take care of you?” He snapped, rounding on me. “Let me do this for you.” I could hear the frustration coloring his voice, and suddenly I felt bad. I hadn’t meant to pick at the issue—one which seemed to keep continually resurfacing. The truth of the matter was, I wasn’t _comfortable_ letting Thomas take care of me, I didn’t _want_ to be a kept woman.

 

Before I could say anything, we arrived on our floor, and he strode off without a word to me, expecting me to follow. I rolled my eyes behind his back, but urged Mae out of the elevator after him. We stopped in front of one of the ornately decorated doors, and Thomas slid the key card into it. The lock popped open with a loud click, and he opened it. 

 

Of course, the luxury inside was nothing to sneeze at. The bed was massive, and covered in plush pillows, set on a slightly raised platform. The floor was thickly carpeted with soft cloth that my feet sank into when I ditched my shoes by the door. There was a welcome basket on the bedside table, with a note from the hotel staff, a few bottles of water, some champagne, and two plush, white robes. Mae, who wasn’t as well mannered as I’d hoped she would be, ran across the floor excitedly, before jumping onto the bed, settling exactly in the center as she stared at us expectantly. 

 

Thomas seemed to still be irritated about our conversation, and I tried not to be hurt at the silent treatment. _What does he even have to be upset about? All I did was say he didn’t have to pay my way like a sugar daddy._

 

He stripped off his shirt, laying it over a chair. “I’m going to shower.” He replied, his tone clipped. I sighed. 

 

“I thought I was the one PMSing,” I muttered to myself, sitting on the edge of the bed as I heard the water begin running. I didn’t want to fight. I was moody, sure, but picking fights had never been my thing. And considering we had to be in a tiny car with just each other for the next few days, I decided to swallow my pride and go talk to him, though really all I wanted to do was curl up on my side of the bed, and eat all the chocolate that I’d found at the bottom of the welcome basket. 

 

I stripped, rubbing my sore back and thighs before padding to the bathroom, and closing the door after me. It was steamy, and I could barely see his outline through the glass shower doors. He was facing the spray, both arms braced against the wall. He glanced at me when I opened the door, knocking on it. 

 

“Can I?”

 

“If you want.”

 

I rolled my eyes again—something it seemed I was doing more than ever tonight—and stepped in. “Thomas, I’m sorry. I’m just not comfortable, or even like, used to you paying for everything all the time. I just don’t… I don’t want you to feel like I’m just here to be in your wallet or something.” I reached for his hand. He sighed. 

 

“Gemma, I _want_ to.” He replied, his blue eyes resting on mine. “You talk about feeling like we’re from different worlds, different leagues.” He pulled me close, in a moment of surprising tenderness. “I don’t want you to feel like that.”

 

I rested my head against his slick chest, listening to his heartbeat. I’d never really thought about _why_ he was doing it, only that it made me uncomfortable. I knew where my fear of being financially dependent came from—my childhood, and watching my mother bend and scrape begging my father for money for things we _needed._ But I also knew Thomas wouldn’t do that to me. He was so free with his money specifically _because_ I wasn’t asking for it. I had a feeling this was new for him too, and that made a warm, happy feeling bloom in my belly. I doubted Thomas had ever driven across the country for any other woman. “I’m sorry.” I said sincerely, placing a light kiss on his chest. He repeated the motion on the top of my soaked head, before turning us so that I was directly under the spray. “Mmm. That’s nice.” I moaned, giggling when I felt him harden against my stomach. 

 

“Something you find amusing?” he intoned, his hands making their way down to my ass. 

 

By the time we made it out of the shower, my fingers were well pruned, and I’d discovered that Thomas wasn’t averse to period sex in the least. 

 

——

 

“You’d better put that out,” I said, gesturing to the joint Tom was smoking in the passengers seat. We’d passed into Minnesota a few hours before, and I though I wasn’t sure exactly what the local law was on recreational marijuana, I knew I didn’t want to get caught with it in my car. Thomas sighed long sufferingly, but did as I asked without any more fuss. When my alarm went off for our next twenty minute rest, I pulled over gladly, before swallowing down the advil I’d bought that morning from the hotel gift shop. Of course, Thomas had bitched at me that we had the best medicine for cramps and back pain rolled into a joint in the car. I didn’t disagree, but I _also_ didn’t want to get pulled over in a rural ass state for chiefing like Snoop Dogg in my car. 

 

I got out of the vehicle and stretched, my joints popping satisfyingly. Mae whined, and scratched at the window. “Stop it, you. I’m going to get your leash in a second.” I turned to say something to Thomas, but he’d already disappeared into the rest stop store, probably to procure some road snacks. It would be his turn to drive soon and I knew he didn’t want to stop. We were halfway through now, and I knew he was as eager as I was to lay down in my own bed. I’d asked Chris already if Mae was welcome in the house, and he’d texted back _“Duh.”_

 

I headed to the bathroom, rubbing my sore abdomen. _I literally cannot wait to never have a period again._ There was a little line, but when I got back to the car, expecting Thomas to be waiting for me, he wasn’t. There was a plastic grocery bag on the backseat, and Mae had also disappeared. _I guess he came back and went to walk her. And he said he wasn’t really a dog person._ I chuckled lightly to myself, before moving to open the door. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

It was locked. Thomas had probably grabbed the car keys off the seat when he’d taken Mae, just to be safe. I tried the passenger side door, but it was locked too. I went to text him, but just as I hit send, I saw the screen of his phone light up inside the dash compartment. 

 

“Dammit, Tom.”

 

“Miss can I help you?” The gruff, midwestern accent surprised me, and I gasped a little, turning. Behind me, there were two sheriff’s deputies, eyeing me. I swallowed nervously. _Relax, Gem. You didn’t do anything wrong. No reason to be scared._

 

“Um, no. I’m good, thanks. I just locked myself out of my car.” 

 

Their gaze turned suspicious. “There’s a man driving this car, ma’am.” I didn’t miss how they glanced at each other, before the older one rested his hand on his belt. Near his gun. “Saw him get out to walk his dog.”

 

“That’s my boyfriend. I can call for him—”

 

Everything happened all at once. I began to back away nervously, reaching for my phone, and the younger cop’s eyes widened, panicked. “Weapon! She’s reaching for a weapon!”

 

I heard someone yell something unintelligible behind me as the older cop grabbed for my arm, twisting it around behind me as he forced my front against the car. “What the fuck?” I couldn’t help the pained words pouring from my mouth. “I don’t have a weapon! It’s my phone,” I pleaded, my shoulders aching. 

 

“What the fuck is going on here?” 

 

_Thomas!_

 

I could hear Mae barking, and I prayed Thomas wouldn’t let her go. _I’d rather them shoot me than her._ “What are you doing? Let her go, right now!” I heard him unlock the car, and open the driver side door to shove Mae inside. The officer’s grip loosened on my wrists, but he didn’t let go. 

 

“Sir, we found this girl trying to break into your vehicle—”

 

“It’s _her_ fucking car,” he snarled. I couldn’t see anything with my face pressed against the glass of the passenger door, my head turned back to face the gas station, where a crowd of people was gathering. I felt humiliated—nothing like this had ever happened to me in New York. Sure, the police could be assholes, just like everyone else. But this? This was _beyond_ anything I’d ever thought I’d have to deal with in my lifetime. Hot, angry tears started to well up in my eyes. “If you don’t let go, I’m going to sue the fuck out of you, your department, and your fucking families, do you understand me?” Tom’s voice was completely calm now, but the threat was clear, and I knew he’d deliver. He was probably going to do it anyway, just to teach them a lesson. 

 

After a tense moment, I felt the older man move away from me and I whirled around rubbing my wrists. I wiped my tearstained face before turning to face the car again. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, and all I wanted was to leave. Thomas was speaking angrily to someone, making a threat I couldn’t quite hear through the anxiety as my brain began to shut out the world around me. My hand shook as I struggled with the door, knowing Thomas would drive. My heartbeat quickened as the world faded into silence around me, my vision tunneling.

 

_I can’t breathe._

 

Suddenly, I felt familiar arms encircle me. I hadn’t noticed, but Thomas had stepped in front of me, pulling me tightly to his chest. I sobbed into his soft cotton t-shirt, my hands bunching in the fabric. He slid down to the ground, resting his back against the car; still holding me as I gasped for breath, shaking.

 

“It’s okay. It’s done. You’re safe.” He spoke softly into my hair, though I could barely hear him over the blood roaring in my own ears. He rocked me back and forth, his warm hand coming up under my shirt to rub my back. “Love? Can you hear me?” Thomas’ voice sounded muffled, as though he were speaking to me through a door. I nodded. “Can you tell me five things you can see?”

 

“I…” I had to think for a moment, trying to get the words straight enough to make sense coming out of my mouth. “The car. Y-you. Empty beer bottle. Pebbles. Grass.”

 

“Four things you hear.” His heartbeat was calm and steady in my ear, and I couldn’t help but count it. 

 

“Your heartbeat. There’s a baby crying. Mae is whining in the car. A cellphone is ringing.”

 

“Three things you smell.”

 

I was aware enough now to feel my body again, and my heart rate finally slowed. “Gas. Ugh, piss, somewhere. And grass.”

 

“Two things you feel.”

 

“The breeze. The ground. My ass hurts. How long have we been sitting here?”

 

“Not that long,” Tom replied, his chin resting on the top of my head. The way the car was parked, we were over to the side of the lot. The crowd that had gathered while the officers were assaulting me had long since dispersed. They couldn’t see us, crouched down behind the car. I wondered what they thought of me, but tried to brush the unpleasant thought away. 

 

“How did you know to do that?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“The anxiety thing. It’s supposed to reground someone having a panic attack.” I twisted in Thomas’ arms to look up at him, and he shrugged, the look on his face one of smug nonchalance; as though it was _natural_ for him to know something like that, and that it was strange of me to be questioning it.

 

“I looked it up.”

 

“Oh?” I replied, exaggerating my surprise cartoonishly. “You _looked it up_ did you?” I asked. I mockingly imitated his accent, and I could see the corners of his mouth turn up as he fought the smile. “When did you _look it up_?”

 

“After you had that attack. When the power went out.”

 

“You looked up how to calm someone down from a panic attack?”

 

“I looked up what to do,” he amended, and I could tell he was embarrassed. “It just came up.”

 

“Awww, it’s okay. I get it.” I stood up, stretching and groaning. I dusted the seat of my pants off, before opening the car door and sliding in. “You liked me.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“You did!” I taunted, and Thomas closed the door in my grinning face. I was thankful he was giving me this. I didn’t want to think about what had just occurred. I’d do what I did best—compartmentalize and put it away until I was able to start therapy again in Alaska. I’d probably have to go to Anchorage for it, but that was fine. I’d probably be moving there anyway, if job hunts were any indication. I leaned over the dash to put the keys in the ignition, so that I could the window down, and lean my head out. “You liked me. Admit it.”

 

Mae tried to climb into the front seat to lick my face, but she was too wide to fit between the driver and passenger seat. She settled for pulling on my shirt sleeve with her teeth until I reached back to pet her. 

 

“Fine. I admit it.” Thomas slid into the driver’s seat and started the car, sniffing at me with that aristocratic air he got sometimes. 

 

“What did you think of me? When we first met?”

 

I buckled my seatbelt, watching as he did the same. Thomas pulled out onto the highway, and I felt a weight lift off of my chest as the gas station God forgot disappeared into the rearview mirror. 

 

“I thought you were too good for me.”

 

We drove for another few hours, and soon, we were exiting the state. I knew my grace period was coming to a close when he shifted in his seat. 

 

“What happened, Gemma?”

 

I tried to play dumb, hoping he was talking about something else. Mae had whined her way into the front seat with me, and with my seat pushed all the way back, she could sit on the floor with her head in my lap, just how she liked. “What do you mean?”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now, Tom.” A frown creased his handsome face, and he glanced at me as he drove. 

 

“Gemma, you have to press charges. Those fucking cops…” his hands tightened on the steering wheel, and I saw his whole body tense up. “What if I wasn’t there?” The rest of his words went unspoken, but I understood just the same. _What if they shot me?_

 

“I just… I hate court.”

 

Thomas was probably right, but I still balked at the thought. My last experience in a courtroom had been being yelled at by my father about how worthless I was for daring to testify against him. It wasn’t something I wanted to repeat. “Those men could have—”

 

“I’ll think about it. Okay, Tom?” my voice was pleading. I just wanted a little cessation here; it was a lot to think about, to process. He was right, of course, though I didn’t want to admit it. And none of my excuses would work here; Thomas would foot the bill for the proceedings if I needed him to. _He’d probably do it without me even asking._ Somehow, that thought made the idea even less appealing. Thomas grudgingly accepted my plea.

 

“Fine. But we’re talking about it later. That shit is serious, Gemma.”

 

“I’m not a child, Tom. I know it’s serious. Can you _please_ just—” Thomas slammed on the brakes, jerking the wheel hard. We skidded into the breakdown lane, as cars continued going past on the freeway, oblivious to our detour. 

 

“You wouldn’t be so fucking calm about it if you saw what I saw!” Thomas rarely raised his voice at me, and it wasn’t something I was used to hearing. I winced, but he wasn’t looking at me, and I was glad for that—at least he wouldn’t feel guilty about something that wasn’t really his fault. 

 

“What did you see?”

 

Thomas refused to look at me, his head resting on his hands atop the steering wheel, his face hidden. “They had you up against the car.” He took a deep breath. “One of them had his baton out, like he was going to hit you.” His voice sounded ragged, and for the first time I realized that he might be crying. I’d never seen Tom cry—part of me wondered if he ever had. His shoulders shook, and I gingerly placed a hand on his back, hoping he wouldn’t shrug me off. 

 

“If you weren’t there Tom, it could have gotten really bad.” I agreed. I _hadn’t_ had to see myself get assaulted, and part of me felt a little miffed that _he_ even felt any way about the incident at all, considering he hadn’t been the victim. But how would _I_ have felt, having to watch the person I loved be treated so badly and be able to do nothing about it? He had no way of knowing his threat would work. He’d taken down all of their information—what he could get from them before they sped off. No names, or badge numbers, but he’d taken down the license plate on the patrol car, we knew the county, and I knew we could both identify them in a lineup, if necessary. 

 

Which it probably would be. I couldn’t let my fear get in the way of doing the right thing. How many people had they done that to who couldn’t speak up? I knew Thomas’ cocern was much more localized. For him, this was more about punishing them than it was about seeking justice, but it would do just the same.

 

“You’re right. I… I need to talk to a lawyer.”

 

“I have a lawyer. We’ll call him when we get home.” Thomas’ voice was decisive and sure—he’d convinced himself that this was the right course of action, and I’d have to follow through with him, whether I liked it or not. He turned on the indicator, and merged back onto the highway. 

 

“It scared me.” I looked at Thomas, and though his voice was calm again, his eyes looked a little red, as though he’d been rubbing them. “It scared me and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it except hope they _decided_ to give you back to me.” 

 

Mae woofed at us in agreement. “Mae wanted to tear into them. I had to shove her in the car,” Thomas replied, running a hand through his hair. 

 

“If they’d done anything to her, you wouldn’t have had to convince me to press charges, you’d have had to fly us out of the country in a private jet. I’d have killed them.”

 

——

 

“Wake up, Love. We’re home.” 

 

I stirred in the passenger seat. As I’d predicted, Thomas had tried to drive most of the Canada leg by himself, and only through sheer dogged stubbornness had I been able to wrest the wheel from him a few times to give him a much needed break. I suspected it was because we stopped less when he was driving, and he was eager to be out of my tiny car with me and my slobbering dog. 

 

“Wait… we’re in Anchorage?” I replied sleepily, spotting the highway sign as we passed it. I leaned my chair back up, surprising Mae, who grunted irritatedly at me before laying back down across the back seat. I hadn’t expected to back in Anchorage with Tom tonight—I’d also expected to be woken sooner. The last leg of the drive was supposed to be mine, but clearly he’d missed that memo, and continued driving as long as I’d been asleep. “You were supposed to wake me up when we hit Tolsona.” 

 

“You were sleeping.”

 

“Obviously,” I replied, glancing out the window at the cityscape. It was just getting dark, but our exit would be coming up in another hour and a half. We’d be home in time for dinner—theoretically. We’d probably drag ourselves inside and sleep until the end of the week. “You should have let me drive.” I stretched in my seat, glad that this trip was finally coming to a close. I’d half expected to hear something from Renner, but there had been only radio silence—which I was grateful for. 

 

“The next road trip, I’ll let you drive the whole thing,” Thomas snapped. I tried not to take it personally—he _had_ to be tired. In my own defense, I _had_ tried to do my fair share. Ever since Minnesota, Tom had been extra careful with me. I had to admit, my anxiety _had_ been worse. It had taken us a full two extra days just to get home, because I’d needed to stop so much. Being in the cramped car was suddenly a trigger, though I suspected it was because the car was the source of the issue at the gas station. _Not that I’m a psychologist or anything._

 

Thomas had even refrained from touching me. At first, I thought perhaps I’d been being silly. There wasn’t any _way_ Tom was avoiding me. He was certainly still attracted to me—that very morning I’d woken up feeling…hot and bothered. Just as Thomas knew my buttons, I was learning his. All it took was a sleepy backwards push of my hips against his for him to respond, the hand he had wrapped around my waist coming up to grasp my breast through my t-shirt, grinding his hardening cock into my backside. 

 

But when I turned in his arms to kiss him, he came fully awake, and the hot morning fuck I’d started to look forward came to a screeching halt. “We should get ready for checkout. Grab some food before we head out,” Thomas had murmured against my hair, splashing cold water all over my flaming libido. I considered pouting—if only because it usually activated his daddy kink. _Thomas wouldn’t play fair. He’d try to convince me._ But I wasn’t Thomas, and we _did_ need to be on our way. It wasn’t just that morning, either. Thomas’ insatiable libido seemed to have been dampened, and I wasn’t sure why. I wondered briefly if meeting my family and then having to deal with me all the way from Jersey had been enough the denote the end of our relationship. I shook my head. If Tom was anything, he was direct. This was something else. 

 

“How gracious of you.” I retorted, absently, still lost in my thoughts. I wasn’t expecting Thomas to take the Anchorage exit on the highway, but he did, instead of bypassing it. I looked at him questioningly. “Why are you turning here?” I turned in my seat to face him. 

 

“I thought it would be easier if we just stopped here for the night.” _Meaning you’re exhausted._

 

“Okay. I just thought… well, I thought you’d kind of like some time alone.” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. “It took longer than we expected to get home, and you did most of the driving. I thought maybe you’d want to decompress by yourself.” I’d never lived with any of my previous partners before, and though Thomas and I _technically_ had different domiciles, it didn’t change the fact that we spent most of our time together. Sure, I saw Scarlett, and Chris, and less often Rob, Allie, and Joy—but Thomas and I orbited around each other in this way I couldn’t quite explain. Even when we were doing different things, we usually occupied the same space, quietly sharing ourselves. I wondered if Tom had been lonely before me. And if he would admit it if he was. 

 

“I’m used to you.”

 

I couldn’t help the small smile that spread across my lips. I knew I got on his nerves—and he _definitely_ got on mine, but I’d grown on him. I still hadn’t told him I loved him. The thought of doing so scared me, and I wasn’t sure how he would react to hearing it. We reached Thomas’ apartment just as night fell completely. Before the car had even fully stopped, I was grabbing Mae and getting ready to exit. I was going to walk her—I’d have to be nice, and give her a good long walk, after that stretch in the car—and then I was going to go straight to sleep. I was only taking what I needed out of the car. We’d agreed I’d store most of my things at his place in Blumfield. It was part of our unspoken agreement that eventually, I’d move in. Whether it was a year from now, or in two months, at some point Tom and I would be living together for real. 

 

 

“I’m going to go around the block a few times. Take my bag inside for me?” I asked, as Mae began dragging me down the sidewalk. She’d never been particularly good at walking on her leash with _me,_ but whenever Thomas walked her she behaved immaculately. _Even the fucking_ ** _dog’s_** _got a crush on my boyfriend._ Thomas sighed long sufferingly, though he did what I asked. When I finally felt satisfied that Mae was alright with heading inside, headed up the steps to the building, before leaving my shoes at the door. “Apartment” wasn’t really the right word. It was more like a townhouse, I realized. Two floors, and an entrance all to himself. 

 

“Please, please be a good girl and don’t do anything to mess up this house,” I replied sternly, watching Mae’s ears perk up as I addressed her. “Go explore, but so help me if you break something I will never forgive you.” I wasn’t sure if she understood me, or the gravity of my request, but she bounded off, her claws clacking against the flooring. I headed upstairs to the bedroom, where Thomas was sitting on the edge of the bed, on his phone. He’d already changed out of his travel clothes, and I hurried to do the same. The prospect of sleep was even more attractive now with my bed in front of me. 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey. I almost thought you’d be asleep by now.”

 

Thomas placed his phone on the bedside table, before sliding into the bed, his hands resting behind his head. “I was messaging Robert, my lawyer.” _Oh yeah_. Tom _had_ said he wanted us to get in contact with his attorney when we got home, but I’d thought he’d at least give us a day or two to get settled before he started making the arrangements. “He’ll meet with us next week Thursday.”

 

“What time?”

 

Thomas snorted at my question as I climbed into bed beside him. I could hear Mae’s paws on the stairs as she climbed them, likely following the sound of our voices. Thomas chuckled at my question.”I’m sorry, do you have plans?” I scoffed at his attitude and tried to turn over on my side, away from him. He simply laughed, and tugged me closer before turned out the light—though he made sure the bathroom light was on and the door was open. 

 

“As a matter of fact, I’ve been job hunting. I’ve already gotten some promising responses. I may have interviews coming up, captain asshole.”

 

“Oh, _excuse me_ ,” Tom replied sarcastically, and I could practically feel him grinning at me. 

 

“No excuse for you, really.” I sniffed, snuggling down into his arms. I felt a trace of desire heat my belly—Thomas had been right. Not messing around for a few days had really given me a little perspective on myself. I’d thought it was _him_ who initiated everything—thinking of myself as a passive receptacle for his affections. But that wasn’t true at all. I was just as attracted to Tom as he was to me. Thomas was merely picking up what I was putting out. _Right about now, I’m ready to put out,_ I thought petulantly, wondering if whatever mood had come over him had finally dissipated so that he could lay waste to my inner organs and send me bonelessly into dreamland. 

 

Experimentally, I rolled my hips backwards, rubbing my ass against him the way I knew he liked. Thomas grunted sleepily, grinding his half hard cock against me. I was pleased with his response, though it wasn’t the caliber I was looking for. I repeated the action, this time, entertaining my fingers with the ones he’d rested on my hip. 

 

 

“This isn’t a very covert seduction,” Thomas’ voice was rough in my ear, and in spite of myself, I felt my heartbeat quicken. 

 

“You’re a pretty direct guy,” I replied, sliding my legs along his under the covers. “I figured you’d appreciate it.”

 

He nuzzled his nose against my neck, before pressing an unceremonially gentle kiss to the skin of my throat. He couldn’t seem to help the hand that came up to caress my breasts through my shirt and pinch my nipple. HIs touch here too was hesitant, and even as he ran his tongue up the side of my throat possessively, I felt weirdly… unfulfilled. I was used to the hot, passionate couplings that had become the norm for us. This was out of place. Even the urgency with which Thomas _always_ touched me seemed diminished. 

 

“Tom, um, you know, we don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to.” I said awkwardly, pushing up at his chest a little until he leaned up and away from me. He looked a little embarrassed that I could tell he was phoning it in, an expression I wasn’t used to seeing on his haughty face. 

 

“I just… I don’t want to trigger you.” He said. And though his voice held an air of admission, I wasn’t sure exactly what he was admitting _to._

 

“I’m sorry, I’m lost here,” I replied, sitting up and scooting out from underneath him. “Explain?” Thomas sighed and leaned back against the pillows, resting his outstretched arm on his knee. 

 

“I don’t want to get rough with you and make you have a panic attack.” 

 

I wasn’t sure how to react. I was shocked he’d even thought of that—especially since the thought had never crossed my mind. What Thomas and I did was totally different. I mean, aside from the fact that Thomas was sleeping with me, I had a choice about everything we did. There wasn’t anything correlated about the tempered—and often quite temporary—pain Thomas gave me during sex and the anxiety inducing terror I’d felt pressed against that car. I shook my head.

 

“No. It’s different when it’s you.” He raised a neat brow at me.

 

“How so?” His tone wasn’t accusing, it was curious. I took a moment to get my thoughts together. 

 

“I mean, sometimes you _can_ be a little…rough. But there’s completely different contexts. I like when you hurt me a little.” I saw the corners of his mouth quirk up, and I fought the urge to say something rude about his ego, but I let it go. “You don’t have to worry about triggering me. At least, not like that.” I scooted back down under the covers, this time turning to face Thomas as he did the same. Although now the air was clear between us, the mood was gone. I was, however, happy with the slow, languorous kisses he lavished me with, his knee pressed between my thighs. 

 

 

—

 

When I woke up, Mae was beside me on the bed, curled up against the hollow of my back. Thomas would be in for a rude awakening. He wasn’t particularly fond of having the dog in the bed, I could tell. But Mae couldn’t be thwarted while we were asleep. I shooed her off the bed, before turning to observe the man beside me. 

 

Thomas was on his back with his head resting on his arm, still asleep. I liked looking at him while he slept, with his expression completely unguarded and relaxed. I trailed a finger down the exposed bit of his tattoo, stopping when he stirred. At some point, the heating had turned on, and one of us—probably Tom—had kicked the blankets off of us. The loose pants he’d put on to sleep in had ridden low on his hips, and suddenly, I was struck with a horribly naughty idea. 

 

Slowly and carefully, so as not to wake him, I inched his sleeping pants down his hips, exposing Tom’s soft cock. I’d noted many times before that soft _or_ hard, I still felt a little intimidated by the size of him. Now was no different, and I swallowed thickly, my mouth suddenly dry. I leaned forward and ran my tongue up the length of him, pulling his foreskin back a little. Thomas stirred, shifting slightly underneath me as he hardened a little more. I’d almost never handled him soft before—He was always hard and ready for me, without me having to tease his cock into awareness. I grasped him gently, my tongue finding the rapidly hardening head of his cock. 

 

“You,” Thomas replied suddenly, his voice ragged with both sleep and desire, “Are fucking filthy, Gemma.” He stretched a little, causing me to release him, half hard, from my mouth with a pop. I grinned sheepishly up at him. and Tom placed a firm hand on my shoulder, squeezing just hard enough to make me squirm. “Finish what you started. Don’t keep daddy waiting.”

 

I didn’t need any further encouragement. I took his cock back into my mouth, taking care to breathe through my nose as I nursed him. When he’d gotten too hard for me to fit all of him into my mouth, I brought my hand up to stroke the length I could no longer reach. Thomas groaned, fisting a hand in my hair as he thrust gently against my face. “You’re so good at this,” his voice was quiet, but it rang loudly in my ears in the quiet room. Tom tugged my head up by my hair, drawing me up until I was almost forced to let go of him, and then forced me down, making tears gather in my eyes. I moaned. Despite the fact that he hadn’t touched me—not at all—I was still soaking wet, my pussy throbbing. 

 

“Daddy’s sorry he wasn’t taking care of you how you need, baby,” he said, reaching between us to pinch one of my nipples, rolling it between his fingers. “You need this just as bad as I do, don’t you? Answer me, Gemma.” I lifted my head up, but Tom stopped me with a firm hand on my head. “I didn’t say to stop.”

 

“Yes, daddy,” I mumbled, my words muffled around his cock. He groaned, massaging my shoulders in approval. “I need it,” I said, my tongue moving against the engorged vein that ran the entire length of him. 

 

“Get on your knees, Gemma.” I scrambled to obey, though I somewhat reluctantly released his cock from my mouth, wiping my lips. I grabbed a pillow, and tucked it under my belly as Thomas got behind me, his hands caressing the backs of my thighs and my ass. “Spread yourself open for me. I want to see.” At his command, I leaned forward, transferring all my weight onto my chest as I reached back to do as he’d asked. He dragged a single finger down my soft, wet slit, making a low appreciative noise in his throat as he did so. 

 

Without warning, he pinched my clit with rough fingers, and I cried out. “Fuck!” 

 

“God, Gemma, you’re practically dripping back here.” I quivered underneath his touch, not sure whether the next thing I would feel would be pleasure or torment. He dipped his pinky finger into my pussy, giving me the contact I craved—but no relief. I tried to push back, but he pulled away, chuckling. I shifted to sit up, and Thomas swiftly punished me with a harsh slap to my ass. I cried out. 

 

“Shit, ow!” 

 

“Stay there. It hasn’t been _that_ long that you’ve forgotten the rules.” He rubbed the spot he’d spanked, soothing the sting with his cool palm before mirroring the action on my other cheek. “Apologize.”

 

“I didn’t—” He popped me again, and I yelped, shifting uncomfortably. I still hadn’t taken my hands down—he hadn’t said I could, and I didn’t want to incur any more of his pent up wrath. _Note to self, sleep with boyfriend every other day, or he becomes a literal tyrant._

 

“I’m waiting, Gemma.”

 

“I’m sorry daddy!” I moaned, my hips moving backward of their own accord. Thomas chuckled. “I’m sorry daddy, please fuck me.” I was begging loudly now, spreading my legs wider in hopes of enticing him into giving me what I wanted. I knew how much Tom liked hearing me beg, and I knew he hadn’t heard that in quite some time—for him, anyway. 

 

Just when I thought he was going to punish me for waking him by leaving me totally unfulfilled, I felt the hot, blunt head of him edge just inside me. I couldn’t help but tense, waiting eagerly as he pushed forward slowly. “Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, his hips jerking as I tightened around him. “Eager bitch.” I almost lost my grip when he seated himself against my cervix, and I moaned. He leaned over me, caging me inside his arms as he thrust into me, his balls slapping against my soaked cunt.

 

I wanted to use my hands, to fist them in the sheets beside my head, to pull him closer and urge him on; harder, faster. But I couldn’t—he hadn’t given me permission. Thomas slammed his cock into me, groaning as I rolled my hips backwards to meet his thrusts. He leaned down to run his tongue along my spine and I shuddered, my pleasure fogged brain unable to regulate the volume of the panting moans I let out each time he slid torturously into my clenching pussy. “You have no fucking idea how hot this is,” Thomas replied, his voice low and hoarse. “You’re so soft and wet… I can see it on my cock.” He exaggerated this with one long languorous stroke, holding my hips in place as he drove himself in to the hilt. 

 

“Please, daddy,” I begged, unable to help wiggling my ass invitingly at him. I could practically feel his smug grin as he spoke, his words dripping with lusty intent. 

 

“Please what, baby?” Thomas intoned, his hips still moving torturously slowly. “Tell daddy what you need.”

 

I felt my cheeks warm with embarrassment even as the words fell from my lips. “Fuck me. Please, I need to cum, daddy.” My voice was breathless and needy, muffled by the sheets. It was sweet torture, my arms aching as I held myself open to his lustful gaze; wishing that he would fuck me into the mattress and release me from my pleasurable torment. 

 

“Such a greedy girl,” Thomas replied mockingly, his fingers skirting around the tight puckered hole his cock hadn’t yet occupied. I knew he was gunning for it—he’d told me so on more than one occasion. He was still buttering me up, getting me used to the thought of having him embedded deep inside me _there_ with his fingers and tongue. I didn’t feel any apprehension as he ran first one, then two fingers through my slick folds, wetting them enough to begin pressing them into the lightly resisting entrance to my ass. I was surprised at how easy it was for him to slide his thick fingers into me, scissoring them as I shuddered. He was still thrusting slow and heavy into my pussy as I writhed beneath him, my arms on the verge of giving out. I trembled beneath him.

 

Tom leaned down, his soft lips tracing the shell of my ear as he spoke to me. 

 

“Do you feel it?” his voice dripped over me, like black honey. “You’re so close. But you can’t cum, can you baby?” He was right—I could feel my orgasm, playing on the edge of my senses, but never coming close enough for me to crest over it. He bumped my hips hard and I slid forward on the bed, the sheets bunching underneath me. 

 

“Please!”

 

“It’s the tension in your arms,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken, his tongue darting out to trace goosebumps inducing paths against my cheek. “It’s just enough to keep you from cumming.” My eyes were open, but I wasn’t seeing anything. “Are you ready to let go, baby?” Thomas could have asked me anything at that point, and I would have agreed. I was completely on autopilot, nodding, sniffling as he thrust into me once, twice more before grasping my hips between his broad hands. “Let go.” I released my hold and fell forward, my arms shaking too hard to support my weight. He took this opportunity to slip his fingers from my ass, and my mouth opened without my permission.

 

“No!” my voice was weak, but Thomas still heard it, chuckling. 

 

“I’ll be back for that sweet ass later,” he promised, before turning me over so that I was on my back. “Lift your legs up.” I did as he instructed, hoping that this time, he’d let me cum. He slid back into me agonizingly slowly, my oversensitive slit sending sharp shocks of pleasure up my spine. He held my ankles together with one sure hand, the other resting on my hip. I was helpless in this position too, I couldn’t reach him—I couldn’t see him—I could just feel his cock pistoning in and out of me, pushing me closer and closer to the climax I desperately needed. 

 

“Oh fuck,” my hands found my own nipples, pinching them and rolling them between my fingers how Thomas did when he was playing with my breasts. “So close… so fucking close…” I sobbed. My voice was ragged, and I heard him growl, his hands tightening their hold on me. 

 

“Your mouth just keeps getting worse and worse, Gemma,” Tom panted, releasing my ankles and crossing my legs behind him so that he could lean over me, his lips finding mine. The feel of his tongue was intoxicating, driving me even closer to the edge. I moaned into his mouth, arching my back up off of the bed. _Just one more push…_

 

Just as I began to peak, Thomas withdrew from me, and I cried out at the loss. “No, Tom, I—”

 

“Shh.”

 

He looked down, before gripping his erection tightly in one hand as he probed my ass again with a single finger. He waited a moment before pressing the blunt head of his cock against me. I felt panic tighten in my chest—but the head of him slipped in easily pushing past the tight ring of muscle to sit just inside me. Unexpected pleasure bloomed in my belly—I hadn’t expected the pressure to feel so good, and for the fullness to be so strangely satisfying. He pushed forward a little more, sliding further into me. 

 

“I can tell I’m the first one in your tight ass, Gemma,” he groaned, edging forward a little more as I squirmed underneath him. I didn’t want to find this pleasurable, I didn’t want to be forced closer and closer to my delicious climax with his cock _there_ , but I couldn’t help it. He was pressing into me, that delicious fullness spreading and I couldn’t help it anymore. I came with a yell just as Thomas seated his hips against mine, his dick fully sheathed in my ass. I clenched around him, and Thomas groaned, his legs shaking as he gave in to the force of my orgasm, his hot cum painting my insides. 

 

I was too boneless to be horrified when he slid out of me after a moment, cursing at my tightness. I shuddered, still sensitive. I wondered dreamily how I was going to get cleaned up when I couldn’t move a single muscle to save my life, but Tom returned to the bed with a damp washcloth, a habit he was forming that he didn’t seem to want to break. I could remember the first time he’d done so all those weeks ago. It would be three months soon, since Thomas had staked his claim on me—and I’d reluctantly accepted it. 

 

“No work today?” I mumbled, the words running together in my languidness. I mustered up the energy to roll onto my side to face him as he perched on the edge of the bed. His hand found my hip, and traced lazy patterns on my bare skin. 

 

“Unfortunately yes,” he replied, looking at me over his shoulder. I knew he was still a little concerned about my anxiety, but I was fine. And if I wasn’t—I was a grown woman who had been taking care of herself long before Thomas had been in my life. I smiled at him lazily. 

 

“Good. I’ve got work to do.” 

 

Thomas raised an eyebrow at my quip. “Oh, do you?” I stretched, still feeling weak and boneless. 

 

“Job hunting. And I got a few calls, so I’m going to return them.”

 

“ _Excuse_ me,” Tom replied. And though his voice was a little mocking, I could tell he was proud of me. I’d been sending my resume to every place I could think of. I’d gotten a few calls back, and some emailed responses that I needed to get to. Thomas moved to shower, and I sighed, not wanting to lay another worry on his shoulders. The reality of the matter was, Anchorage didn’t have any paper services that were as large as the Burst, and I would be making half what I’d been making when I was in New York. Any job was better than none, but I knew there was only so much I could negotiate for from these smaller, local papers. And the next thing was, print was dying. If there was no online publication, Burst subscription would have dropped by sixty percent; so I couldn’t imagine what the rates were in a place like this. Regardless, I was going to do my best to make the most money I could—I didn’t want to be dependent on Thomas even more than was necessary. 

 

Especially now that we were going to be pursuing charges against the Pollard County Sheriff’s department. Thomas exited the bathroom, his hair dripping wet and a towel slung across his hips. 

 

“I’m going for a haircut after work today, but when I get back, be ready to go to dinner,” he said authoritatively, apparently fully back to his regular old self after our road trip. I couldn’t help but laugh. 

 

“Anything else, Your Majesty?” I replied, rolling my eyes as I sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to my chest. “What are you thinking for food?”

 

“There’s a new Greek place that opened downtown. I was thinking we could go there.”

 

“How do you know this already? We just got back.”

 

“I know the owner.”

 

I snorted. “Of course you do.” I eased out of bed, conscious of Tom’s eyes on my naked body as I made my way to the bathroom. I’d messaged Scarlett that I was back in town, which she’d relayed to everyone else in turn. They were demanding to see me, and meet Mae—which I knew couldn’t happen until I was back in Blumfield and in my own place. I’d been considering going out for breakfast on my own, and possibly doing some _extremely controlled_ shopping. I needed to replace the two sets of panties Thomas had destroyed, and also grab dog food for Mae, among other things. I was glad I now had my own car here—I could run errands. Hell, I could come to Anchorage _without_ anyone else, which would be nice. Every time I’d been here I hadn’t had any mobility of my own. 

 

My thighs rubbed together stickily, the evidence of our earlier activities making my face go hot. Thomas stood in the doorway, his smartly pressed slacks still open at the waist and his chest bare. I pulled the shower door to the side, beginning to fiddle with the temperature dials as he wrapped another towel around his shoulders and began drying his hair. “It’s a pity I can’t make you cum again before I go,” true regret colored his voice and I heard him shifting closer to me. Just a few minutes ago, I’d been fucked so thoroughly I couldn’t move. Even now, my legs were still shaky. I snapped upright, overwhelmingly conscious of the throbbing of my overstimulated sex. 

 

“You’ll be late.”

 

“I’m the boss. Whenever I get there, I’m on time.”

 

I felt the fabric of his slacks against the backs of my thighs, and his lips on my throat. “Okay. Fast.”

 

I felt him grin against my throat. “Your wish is my command.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. So. Things are progressing. And Gemma's right, this is *definitely* not the last they've seen of Renner...


End file.
